Worth the Fight
by werchooijoui
Summary: Sasuke and Sakura meet in the rain. Their lives collide at full force, dragging them together through the seductive underworld of New York City into a brutal mob war. And what is Sasuke to do when the currency is blood and everyone has their hands in it, including himself and the girl he can't get out of his head (or his apartment)? AU. SasuSaku. M for lemons, violence
1. Let It Rain

_Cruise-control distressed her, kind of cursed and kind of blessed her, engine running on the fumes  
>Vision blue and blurry, falling angels in a flurry, spinning through the empty room<br>Let it rain, let it pour_

_- _Ok Go

* * *

><p>She threw herself in front of my car. I wouldn't have stopped otherwise- it's never a good idea to pick up a hitchhiker, especially in a sketchy part of town, in the rain, past midnight.<p>

I almost didn't see her through the downpour, which reflected the dim rays from the lamppost under which she stood shivering. And she could tell I wasn't going to stop. I'd made no attempt to slow down- I hardly even registered that she wanted me to, until I heard her yelling indignantly, but the rain and the walls of the car muffled the sound and I rolled my eyes.

Then she did something _so_ stupid, and very Sakura: she ran into the road in front of me, waving a hand frantically. I slammed on the brake pedal hard, my knuckles going white on the steering wheel. Too late.

I remember the look in her eyes when she realized I was really going to hit her. It was the first time I noticed their remarkable color- flooded by the beam of my headlights, they lit up celadon, and round as coins.

Then her adrenaline kicked in and she dodged, but not quite in time.

She collided with the left headlight, shattering it, and I heard the smack as a shoulder smashed into my side mirror. I'm pretty sure I shut my eyes as the car spun a few more meters and skidded to a violent stop.

My mind was utterly empty- all I could think was, "_Shit, shit, shit, shit…_" as I kicked my door open, feet slamming and heart pounding to reach her damaged frame, strewn motionless across the asphalt.

Dashing over and slamming my knees numbly onto the road, I pushed her soaked hair back and shakily slid my hand under the base of her skull, pulling her onto me. I shuddered at the state of her left side- the horrifying, fragmented mess that was the source of blood draining down the bridge's slope- and a cold swell hit my chest without warning. Then her face twitched and she muttered a soft, "…ow…"

Fleeting relief kickstarted my heartbeat, and I wrapped my arms around her, lugging her back to my car and setting her in the passenger seat. By the time I slammed my own door shut, she was fully cognizant, which was obvious by the way she leaned over, clutching her leg, and cried out in pain with ample projection in one long, "FUUUUUUCK!"

I turned the ignition, begging frantically with my engine until it complied. She looked at me through fluttering eyelids, her forehead resting weakly on the edge of the dashboard. "Where are you taking me?" she asked in a faint, drained voice. Keeping my eyes on the road, I nearly shouted, "The hospital!"

Her eyes went wide and she shook her head urgently, however slightly, and asserted, "No. Please don't. I don't need the hospital."

"What? Are you-"

"Really! I was just there."

"Don't be an idiot. You need a doctor."

"Please!" she said, growing louder and grabbing my sleeve. The unexpected contact shocked me into shouting, "You need a fucking doctor!"

"_Please!_"

I looked at her desperate expression for a moment, shaking my thoughts straight. How did I get myself into this mess?

Sighing, bringing my gaze back up to the empty road, I conceded in a gruff voice, "Fine. Where _should_ I take you?"

At her extended silence, I gave her an incredulous look. "Are you serious? You have nowhere to go but you won't go to the hospital?"

She bent over with another piercing cry in response, nails digging into the fair skin of her thigh. She spat through clenched teeth, "You could be nicer, you know. You just hit me with your car."

I swallowed a fuming retort. "Where do you live?"

Once again, her silence was her answer. Huffing, I spat back, "Fine. I'll take you to my neighbor."

"Your neighbor?"

"He's a doctor. He can stitch you up."

"A doctor?" she asked, her question effectively hopeful, albeit weak.

"The hospital would be better," I sulked, my voice lashing at her.

"No! The neighbor's fine, thanks!"

At that point her breathing turned harsh and affected, and her eyelids started fluttering again. Watching her go paler and paler, I muttered, "You know, you- you're losing a lot of blood."

She didn't reply.

I ran several red lights on the way to Dr. Chang's place. Once we reached the apartment complex, I carried her up the back stairs at a strident pace, aware of how chillingly light her small, limp frame was. Instead of knocking at Chang's door, I kicked with all my might.

He answered a minute later with bleary, worried eyes, and without waiting I burst into his living room with the bloody girl in my arms, rushing her to the couch. "Sasuke! What are you doing-" the doctor stopped short when he caught sight of the blood. We exchanged a grim glance, and he nodded with a tense gaze toward the unconscious girl, "Let me see what I can do."

* * *

><p>We didn't have any painkillers to work with. Chang told me to keep her still as he worked. What he actually meant was, pin the upper half of her body down with your full weight onto the couch, as that's the only way to keep her immobile.<p>

I tried not to feel much empathy for her- I'd been in worse situations than this, with no one holding my hand. I tried not to tell myself it was my fault.

Her cries were more invasive than shudder-inducing. And the fact that this shitty situation was shoved onto me didn't help. But when she latched onto my collarbones and cried into my t-shirt, I sighed and let her.

It didn't take long. The worst part was her left shoulder: already heavily bruised and hypersensitive, it was completely dislocated. The fix was simple enough- Chang said I just had to pull as hard as I could and it would pop back into place. But it was so tender that as soon as I touched it, she cried out and her whole body cringed. Her eyes caught mine for a moment, and I recognized an emotion in them that, for some reason, I hadn't expected. She was scared.

I looked helplessly at Chang, for that moment willing to admit I was afraid too. Of all the injuries I'd dealt with in my life, I was pretty sure I'd never been in as much pain as she was now. But Chang just nodded as he held her other hand, trusting me, and said, "It's okay, Sasuke. Just pull on three, as hard as you can."

I looked at him grimly for a moment. He'd said his old bones didn't have the strength to do it himself, and I knew it was probably true- but I still resented him for it, just a little. Giving me a slight nod, he counted slowly, "One-"

I yanked, _hard_. And the girl's bones popped right back into place with a sort of grinding sound. Her eyes flew open, and she cried out in shock, and I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. Heaving ragged breaths, she shuddered and gripped her shoulder weakly until the throbbing dimmed some.

Pulling herself up by her good arm, she shouted unsteadily, "Asshole! What kind of idiot can't count to three?!"

I leaned back, taking a moment for my fingers to stop shaking before I crossed my arms and glared. "You're telling me it would've hurt less if you'd been expecting it?"

"Well, I could've used some time to mentally prepare for-"

"Most people move or flinch on three, and that would've made it worse."

That effectively shut her up, but as she turned to lay back down on the couch I heard her murmur, "_You're still a dick_."

* * *

><p>The rest of the operation consisted of Chang picking out shards of asphalt and headlight glass from the jagged gash along her left hip. After that, he stitched up the wound, seventeen stitches total. Even cleaned up, it looked pretty bad. Chang wrapped it in bandages for good measure, then stepped into his kitchen to clean up his tools.<p>

I ended up with long gouges in my forearms from her fingernails. Ironically, they weren't even that sharp; I could tell by looking that she was a habitual nail biter. But her fingers were deceptively strong- bruises were starting to form around the grooves where she'd latched onto me.

She had her fingers curled next to her face as she slept. I watched her a bit enviously, reminded that it had been months since I'd been able to sleep so soundly. Studying the slow, methodical movement of her chest put me in a momentary daze, and for a little while the world quieted. I forgot the situation, forgot everything, just for a moment.

But I was startled back to the present by the dark bruises I spotted around her thin wrists- my own doing. I frowned at the spark of guilt that passed through me.

By then, we'd both dried off, and I finally noticed the color of her hair: a soft, delicate pink, like a spring rose. And looking closer, I could see the variation in the color- soft highlights, varying darker shades underneath, and no trace of faded roots. Not even the most expensive stylists in New York could reproduce that organic pattern- this was her natural hair color.

And that was when I realized I'd seen that distinctive hair before, on the cover of _The Inquirer - _the tabloid responsible for the majority of celebrity divorces. That's right- she was a socialite, one of those jet-setting trust fund heiresses.

I found it hard to swallow that the stunner in US Weekly was the same worn out girl sleeping on Chang's old couch five feet in front of me.

Soft footsteps padded up behind me, and I asked rhetorically, keeping my face on the sleeping blueblood, "You need us to leave."

I felt Chang's warm hand on my shoulder. The gesture was comforting in its familiarity, and I sighed, grinning dejectedly for a moment before I stood, slid my arms under the celebrity, and slumped out the door. Turning around as Chang closed it, I gave him a long look, not sure what to say. He sighed, smiled in what seemed annoyingly like pity, and said, "You're welcome, Sasuke. Keep that leg elevated."

* * *

><p>It was almost dawn. As it had been for months, drowsiness was no issue for me. I thought about what she had said to me before- or, what she hadn't told me: where she could go. She had nowhere. Shit, this was my problem to deal with. It became my problem the minute I turned onto that bridge.<p>

I took her back to my apartment in Brooklyn.

It's a dismal, cramped space on the twelfth floor that doubles as my studio. After living there for almost a year, I've managed, unwittingly, to transform it into the inside of my brain. Every inch of the walls is covered in words, scenes, images that don't mean anything. They just ended up channeled through my hand onto the closest available canvas. Even the ceiling- or, _especially_ the ceiling- was covered in a huge abstract landscape of the city, done in crayon over a month of sleepless nights.

I hate the hell out of it. Every time I come back and am reminded of the whole senseless mess, or notice something I don't remember putting there, I feel like I'm looking into the mind of a psychopath.

Largely, it's the result of my insomnia. Or, rather, it's the only solution I've found. I put my thoughts on the walls to get them out of my head. But its success is so fickle and temporary that it pisses me off to need it in the first place, rather than bringing any respite. I think every day about moving, but I don't have the drive. I want someone to take away my supplies. I've actually thrown them out the window before, in fits of aggravation, and then rushed down to make sure nothing was broken. It's such horse shit.

I laid the girl in my bed, which hadn't truly been slept in in months. It was partially satisfying, mostly irritating, to see it finally getting some use. Again I noticed how unsettlingly thin she was, seeming so neglected and brittle against my fluffy comforter.

I slept on the couch. Not really. I laid there, attempting to smother thoughts of, 'Who is she?' 'Why did she refuse to go to the hospital?' 'What do I do tomorrow?' 'Why the _fuck_ did she jump in front of my car?' '_Why me?_'. I jammed a pillow against my ears, begging it to muffle those questions even slightly. Of course, it didn't.

Growling in exasperation, I threw the pillow across the room, stood, and grabbed my palette.

* * *

><p>The pink-haired girl woke up to a grayscale vignette of a three-foot wolf spider six inches from her face. It was plenty to shock her awake. She jolted her face away from it in an instant, her thought process not so much 'oh shit, spider' as 'what the fuck?'. And very quickly, her eyes were drawn to the other corners of the room. They panned the interior in slow motion, jaw dropping gradually as she took in the explosion of images coating every inch. Staring up in awe, she uttered a single uneasy, "Whoa."<p>

Where the hell was she? She vaguely remembered going through something painful as hell, then dozing on some old Chinese guy's couch. This room was not that one. In fact, somehow, the light coming from the smudged window across the room suggested she was in an entirely different part of the city.

Bringing her hand up to rub the tired shock out of her face, she noticed the thick bruises circling her wrists. Rubbing them gingerly and frowning, she flipped the blanket off herself to examine her scored hip. Pressing the covered skin lightly and testing for twinges of pain, she found only numbness, and the odd feel of the stitches under the bandages. She counted seventeen. Jesus Christ, it was at least five inches long, and on the outside of her leg. Someone would be bound to notice that scar.

She noticed she was still wearing her clothes from that ill-fated day- rather, she was wearing them again. They were the only things other than hospital gowns she'd worn since. Slowly, yesterday's events came back to her, and she groaned, burying her face in the covers. The unexpected soothing she felt in the room settled on her, and she turned back to look up at the unfathomable artwork surrounding her, sighing.

Unable to focus on any one aspect of the room, she shook it from her immediate attention and climbed out of bed. She hissed as her sore bones rejected the movement, and cringed at the sudden memory that came crawling up- a pair of headlights, coming too close too fast, and then seeing only red.

Pushing herself carefully to the edge of the bed, she placed her feet gingerly on the painted floor and took a tentative step with her good leg.

Limping severely over to the door, she passed an old mirror, from which she could tell layers of paint had been poorly removed. Peering at herself, she shuddered at the deep shadows under her eyes and the paleness of her skin. She looked about as frail as she felt.

* * *

><p>Light fingers shook my shoulder. Prying my eyes open and straightening my sore neck, I realized I'd dozed on the stool in front of my easel. Turning around tiredly, I was shocked awake by malachite eyes just inches from my face. I didn't say anything, but her voice immediately filled the silence. "Did you sleep like that all night?" Her voice twinkled like her eyes. "That's actually pretty impressive."<p>

She turned around to take in the walls again, her hand still resting contentedly on my shoulder.

I blinked, drowsiness slowing my comprehension. She held her other hand out over my shoulder, and I eventually shook it.

"I'm Sakura," she grinned. Christ, those teeth were blinding.

"Sasuke," I managed. She smiled again, this time with just her eyes. Without losing that warmth, she asked, "Sasuke, did you hit me with your car?"

Her voice was coated with sugar, but I honestly couldn't tell if she was being passive aggressive. I narrowed my eyes at her, retorting in my abrasive early-morning voice, "Are you suicidal?"

Her expression immediately chilled, taken aback. I still couldn't tell if she was acting. "Why would you think that?" she asked, almost accusingly.

"You threw yourself in front of my car."

My tone came off cutting and colder than I expected, but I didn't bother to amend it. She stood there for a moment, frowning at me with a retort on the tip of her tongue. Blinking, she shut her jaw, leaned away from me, and asked quietly after a moment, "Do you have anything to eat?"

Exhaling a bothered sigh, I gestured sharply over her shoulder to the kitchen. She stalked away, and I buried my head in my hands, rubbing the sleep off my face with a worn out groan. I grumbled through my palms, "You shouldn't be walking around on that leg."

She didn't respond, but I knew she heard me.

It wasn't until then that I really noticed the painting on the easel, the one I'd done last night: It was a picture of a dark, rainy night. Under a single streetlight on an empty bridge stood a girl, whose face was hidden by her raincoat. She clung to the bridge's railing from the outside, staring into the choppy waters far below with the sudden urge to jump.

I looked up from my perch on the stool when I heard Sakura's gossamer voice ask from the kitchen, "Hey, Sasuke! Is this me?"

When I stepped into the kitchen, I saw what she meant. Over the door was painted a pair of eyes, not even human-looking eyes, which appeared to consist purely of minuscule painted emeralds. It had some sort of abstract pink edging that could possibly be construed as hair.

Weird. I definitely didn't remember painting that- but I did know I hadn't done it last night.

"That's old," I answered, and I saw her glance at me, stunned. I kept my eyes trained on the painting. "Well, it might still be me. You could've seen me before."

I watched the light fade from her eyes in my peripheral view as she said dejectedly, "You saw me in _the Inquirer_, didn't you?"

Glancing at her with a dead serious expression, I asked simply, "Why would you be in a tabloid?"

She blinked, nonplussed, before replying, "Wha- I wouldn't. I'm not. Duh."

My eyebrow twitched. She thought I didn't know who she was- although truthfully, I didn't know anything the tabloids had been spouting about her.

Sighing and leaving the room, I added over my shoulder, "There's cereal in the cupboard over the sink."

I could practically feel the light on my back from the smile I knew she flashed me.

* * *

><p>My TV is a piece of crap. It's from the eighties so it has that chunky wooden frame and antennae, which actually still serve a purpose and need to be adjusted every five god damn minutes. I have no idea where I got it.<p>

I've had to remove paint from the screen countless times, and it's slowly gained an obscuring smudge that has a tendency to sit right over characters' faces.

I sat watching Beavis and Butthead, wide awake but too tired and completely unwilling to focus on the show, while Sakura perched next to me on her knees, chomping away at her Frosted Flakes.

My gaze swerved haphazardly over to meet hers when she randomly spouted, "You don't get much sleep, do you?"

I blinked at her with tired eyes, but didn't respond. She moved her mouth, obviously lost for words, and ultimately chose to just shut it. I turned disinterestedly back to the TV. A minute later she piped up, "If you can't sleep, why don't you just get a graveyard shift? You know, like at a cemetery or something."

"A cemetery?" I remarked skeptically.

"Yeah. You know. They're good for… inspiration. For your paintings," she answered, waving her hand in the air on the word 'inspiration'. I scowled at the TV, glowering to myself that 'inspiration' and 'jazz hands' are not synonyms.

Blinking at my abrupt irritability, she turned back to the TV again. A couple minutes later she turned back and said, watching carefully for my reaction, "So, I have a problem."

I looked over at her with disinterested raised eyebrows. Her smile twitched at my apathetic face, but she pressed on, "I have nowhere to go."

I gave her a responding look that said, '_…and?_' and she huffed in irritation. "Can- can I stay here? Tonight, I mean?"

Not bothering to address her face, I rolled my eyes and told the TV, "…No."

She sighed unhappily. "B- but- seriously? You hit me with your car!"

"You jumped in front of it."

"Because you weren't gonna stop!"

"Nope. I didn't even see you."

"Bullshit!"

Silence followed her statement. I rolled my eyes, and she sat staring at me, pale and helpless.

"Come on, please? Just for one night?"

I kept my eyes glued to the TV, refusing to answer. She watched my face tentatively for a moment, waiting, before her slight mope gradually spread into a wide grin and she uttered a sugary, "Thank you, Sasuke."

I frowned at her. Why was I being so nice? Her shit was not my problem. Sighing, I resigned myself to the idea that maybe I wasn't as hardhearted as I'd hoped.

Leaning my head back against the top of the couch, I tuned Butthead out completely. I could feel Sakura watching me uncertainly, until she settled on a decision and picked up the remote sitting between us. She flipped past Good Morning America, Reba, and Full House before giving up on _E!_. She threw the clicker back on the couch and followed my lead, leaning back and closing her eyes.

"…Lindsay Lohan ever stop acting out? Only time will tell. In other news, the New York-native Haruno family has been seeing some hard times lately, especially concerning their daughter, who sources report has gone AWOL-"

"- and then you just chop chop chop, just like you're dicing carrots, and then you just throw them in the blender and voila!"

I looked up at the sudden change in station, and caught for an instant the wide-eyed look Sakura was giving the screen, holding the remote with shaking hands like it was a gun she'd just fired. I didn't say anything, but she whipped around and returned the wary look I was giving her with a distressed, almost betrayed, gaze. After a sharp sigh she stood, bringing her bowl into the kitchen. She must have assumed I knew _something_ concerning the truth about her by then.

* * *

><p>Writer's note: Hey! Thanks for reading, guys! So if you've read this story before, here's a little update: I've revamped some things slightly, changed at least a little bit of every chapter- and combined a few, like these two. Some other changes are so small you probably won't even notice, but it was grating my nerves to leave things the way they were before moving forward. Which means that yes, I'm moving forward! New chapters are coming soon, have no fear :) Thank you so much for reading!<p> 


	2. Smile Like You Mean It

_Save some face, you know you've only got one  
>Change your ways while you're young<br>Boy, one day you'll be a man  
>Oh, girl, he'll help you understand<em>

_-_The Killers

* * *

><p>"So what do you do all day, when you're not busy coating your apartment or trying and failing to fall asleep?" Sakura asked, reentering the living room from the kitchen with another bowl of cereal in hand.<p>

"I have a day job."

Her eyebrows shot up, genuinely surprised. "What are you, a Wal-Mart Greeter? Bank teller? Food critic?"

I huffed and gave her a withering glare, and she smiled deviously, keen to get on my nerves.

"Meininger's," I stated, and she snorted.

"The art supplies store? You are hopelessly predictable," she commented, turning back to Julia Childs on the TV.

"They give me discounts on supplies," I retorted, and she rolled her eyes.

Crossing my arms, I accused suddenly, "Don't you have _anywhere_ to go?"

After a stunned moment Sakura looked away from me with flitting eyes and an unspoken excuse on her lips. I'd thrown her off guard, and she was struggling to come up with a plausible answer.

I grunted, "That's a yes. So-"

"No, it's a no! But I do have some things to do." She looked at me expectantly, and I replied after a moment, "So?"

She huffed. "_So,_ if I leave the apartment and come back later, will you let me back in?"

I rolled my eyes in a prolonged, "_Yes._"

Her eyes sparkled, and she hopped up from the couch smiling. "Great! I'll be back in a few hours."

"What- you're leaving right now?"

"Yeah," she replied nonchalantly, skipping around the apartment collecting her various possessions. "Do you have a hat or sunglasses or something I can borrow?"

"What for?" I asked over my shoulder, and she leaned back to see me through the bedroom doorway, fixing her earrings and asking, "Huh?"

"…nothing." There was no way she didn't hear me.

"Aha!" I heard her exclaim from the kitchen, and she came out wearing a gray beanie too big for her head, but which effectively hid her hair- which, I'd already found, was a dead giveaway. Smirking, I declared, "I probably won't be here when you get back."

"Why not?" she asked, turning around in the middle of her stride to the front door. "Work," I answered, and she nodded. As she was standing in the hallway, about to close the door, she peeked back inside and said, "Don't lock the door, okay?" and with a last hint of smile she vanished.

I briefly considered locking her out, although I hadn't lied- I really did have work. With a sigh, I left the apartment barely ten minutes after her, leaving the door unlocked.

* * *

><p>Work was lame, as expected. I was getting tired of constantly being surrounded by art. Lately, art hadn't been any sort of consolation or stress reliever for me- sort of the opposite, in fact. I associated it so heavily with my insomnia that the very thought of it was starting to make me agitated. It didn't help that there was art everywhere I went. Meininger's, the apartment, and practically every place in between- it <em>was<em> New York City- was swamped with it. I'd realized months ago, without doing anything about it: I needed to get the hell out of there.

One consolation to the job was the ramen joint across the street, where my self-proclaimed best friend, Naruto, worked as a short-order cook. After my shift, I glanced his yellow spikes of hair through the window and stopped in.

"Sasuke! Hey man, what's up? Oh, guess what? Hinata and I drove up to Boston yesterday to see the Red Sox game!"

"Did you catch the winning ball?" I asked disinterestedly.

"…No…"

"Then I can top that." Naruto's cobalt eyes went wide in dramatic excitement, and I continued, "There's a celebrity in my apartment. Well, not right now, but-"

"What? _Why?_ Who?!"

"Sakura Haruno." Naruto's smile fell and he asked tentatively, "She's got that… famous… family, right?"

I nodded, grimacing, "I hit her with my car." Naruto's eyes went wide with shock and his jaw dropped. "Dude, her dad's totally gonna kill you!"

"_She_ jumped in front of _my_ car. And she's fine, anyway. Barely a scratch on her." The image of the deep gash in her thigh flashed across my mind, but I dismissed it. Naruto ruminated, "Actually that's not so surprising."

"What?"

"That she jumped in front of your car."

At my confused look, he continued, "Because… you know… she was just in the hospital? For…" When my expression didn't change, he just shook his head and asked, "Nothing? You really haven't heard any of this?"

At my irritated shrug, he said, "Man, you really need to stop by a newsstand."

"For what, The _Inquirer?_" I asked sarcastically, and he just blinked at me. "No, dude- the New York Times."

* * *

><p>Sakura bought a pair of big black sunglasses from a street vendor to go with Sasuke's beanie, along with some cheapo short shorts to replace her blood-spattered skirt. Feeling a bit more securely concealed, she took off down the subway, headed for Manhattan.<p>

The first thing she did was make a phone call from a payphone to her temperamental best friend, Ino Yamanaka.

Ino had been a top model since she was fifteen, around the time she and Sakura met. She was long and lean, with endless blonde hair and flirty blue eyes- completely gorgeous. That, along with her sociability and obstinacy, was the cause of years of boy trouble through which Sakura had been her only anchor. Unfortunately, this sort of defined their friendship- it was all about Ino.

But there was never a doubt whether Ino would be there for her. In the past month, Ino was one of the only people who dared to visit her in the hospital, completely ignoring what Sakura's parents had chosen and what the public had to say. She was the only who hadn't been ashamed. There were times when an unyielding personality certainly came in handy.

"Hello?" Ino's voice glinted with tenacity, as always.

"Ino… It's Sakura," she sighed into the receiver.

"OH MY GOD, BITCH! Where the hell have you been?!" The phone in Sakura's hand shook with Ino's voice, and she cringed. "It's a… long story."

"Well you've had everyone worrying like crazy! Do you know who called me? Sai! He was freaking out cause your dad was going crazy! Where the hell are you?!" she demanded sternly.

"Look, I need to stay away from my family for a while… Is there any chance I can stay at your place?"

Ino's voice calmed down some. "Sorry kid, the other girls definitely wouldn't be cool with that."

Sakura figured as much. Ino lived with several other top models in a penthouse in Manhattan. "Then can I come by your place and pick up some stuff?"

Ino laughed sarcastically. "You want me to be your accomplice? No fucking way, your dad scares me too much. And what was that? You're gonna take _my_ stuff?"

"No, mine. All the stuff I've lent you, I need it back."

Ino huffed. "Fine. When will you be here?"

"Twenty minutes?"

"You're _that close?_ Damn girl, you really had me freaked for no reason."

On her walk to Ino's place, Sakura's mind was stuck on her parents' motives. Well, her father's motives. Her mother had been a boozed-up empty shell for a while now.

When she was in the hospital, her brother Izaya had told her that they had sold her apartment and had all her things boxed and shipped to a storage unit in Indiana. And she could only think of two possible reasons why: Either they really were trying to cut her out of their life, or they thought- had decided- that she was still under their control. Deep down, she knew it was the latter. The fact drove her crazy.

* * *

><p>Ino had gathered what she could find of Sakura's stuff and piled it in a cardboard box. It mostly consisted of clothes and makeup, but she also tossed in some shampoo and an open box of nicotine patches. Sakura picked it up idly, noting, "You need these more than I do."<p>

"How many times do I have to tell you? For a model, smoking is _beneficial_. I don't want to quit."

"Then have fun dying of lung cancer."

"Hey, House has told people to smoke before."

"Yeah, two cigarettes a day, not two packs. I saw that episode too."

Ino rolled her eyes as Sakura plopped the patches back on her bed, but didn't argue. Sakura asked, "By the way, have you seen my phone?"

"That's not really a 'by the way'. And no, I haven't. It's probably at your apartment."

Sakura huffed. "Then my dad probably has it locked up in his office."

"Did you have it on you… that night?" Ino asked carefully, and Sakura shook her head adamantly. "I left it …" she stopped, realizing how little she wanted to talk about 'that night'. Ino was giving her an unsure gaze, and Sakura waved it away, grinning. "Maybe someone stole it and hawked it to the media."

"I doubt it- if those texts were public, Sai would've dumped me a long time ago," Ino laughed.

* * *

><p>When I left the ramen shop, I indulged my curiosity and stopped by a newsstand, going for a <em>Newsweek <em>when I spotted Sakura's rosy hair on the cover. Looking closer, I realized it was a younger photo of her in a family portrait. Her smile was far more genuine than I'd seen it since meeting her. The headline read, "Shukketsu Haruno: the Crook Behind the Curtain of the World's Oil Industry."

The picture showed a mix of people- an extended family of siblings, cousins, great uncles- few smiling, all surrounding an intimidating man sitting in a lavish armchair. Sakura was at the man's right hand- he must have been her father.

I flipped to the cover story, skimming down the columns of words, passing phrases like, "..._tangibly, he is the US's wealthiest and most well-connected oil cartel, with long-running relationships with the Russian and Japanese mafias_," and quotes from angry anonymous sources spouting "_...there's no proof because these people are extremely good at covering their tracks, they_ _never leave witnesses alive…_"

So they weren't just rich for their good looks- the Harunos were a crime family. I realized quickly just what this meant for Sakura- and exactly how folly it was for her to be hiding from these people.

I scanned the article until I spotted Sakura's name._"…month ago, the youngest Haruno, Sakura, was fished from the Hudson River nearly dead, resuscitated on the scene, and has been in the hospital since. Having already received remarkable media attention since her early teens from titles ranging from The Inquirer to Vanity Fair, the twenty year old's latest scandal put the entire family under scrutiny by the public. Since the young deb's admittance to Manhattan General Hospital, she has been kept largely out of the public eye- she has not been photographed since... _

_ "…Much investigation has occurred over the nature of Sakura's plunge into the Hudson. The public has been quick to blame the mafia- bad blood between the Harunos and a rival family, perhaps, especially concerning the recent murder of her brother for a supposedly similar reason- but, as with Hatori's case, evidence is sketchy. Shukketsu Haruno released an official statement three weeks ago, confirming only that his daughter had no memory of the incident. This, however, only raises more questions about the family's…_"

I stopped reading, hardly any of my confusion quelled. If she was supposed to be in the hospital, what the hell was she doing in front of my car? More importantly, why had she been in the Hudson River? Had she really almost died? And what the hell kind of family were the Harunos?

Shit, I realized. This changes things.

Turning back to the article, I read on as I stepped onto the subway: "_Sources say relations within the family have also been strained as of late. Since the murder of their eldest son Hatori last year, Sakura has been acting, in the family therapist's words, "increasingly impulsive." Word on their elder son, Izaya, has been sparse, but sources say he's been up to typical rebellious antics. The siblings, however, appear thick as thieves, as Izaya has been reported visiting his sister at the hospital at least twice a week. No telling whether this camaraderie bodes well for their parents…"_

_ "…As for Mrs. Haruno, Amayo's infamous alcoholism has taken a highly publicized turn for the worse, as she was arrested in Prague just last week for public drunkenness . Shukketsu himself has been mum on the subject, though sources say he has been fixated for the last year on his son's murder investigation, even allowing some critical transactions with the Iranian government to fall to the back burner. He's still hesitant to involve police…_"

* * *

><p>I was sitting at the paint-drenched coffee table by the window, the <em>Newsweek<em> laying closed in front of me, when Sakura came home. I watched her smile at the unlocked door as she guided it closed, then turn to me and freeze. Her face paled instantly and her look was one of absolute dread as she caught sight of her family on the magazine's cover.

Blinking back into motion, she scurried over to sit opposite me, saying, "I- I can explain-"

"You've got a shitty family." I stated, and she blinked. I saw her mouth form a word, about to say something, but I cut her off, "I know what that's like."

Her jaw shut, and she looked at me, taken aback.

"I know you want to stay away from them for a while."

She blinked. "…I-"

Before she could say another word, I stood up and reached into my pocket, pulled out a little silver key, and slapped it on the table. I caught the wide sparkle in her eyes as she realized what it was.

"This is-"

"Payback. For hitting you with my car," I cut her off. "If you need a place to go- just take the bed. I don't… sleep much, anyway."

She took the key, staring down at it for a moment, hiding the stunned smile on her lips, before she looked up at me. At that moment, I realized what was twinkling in her eyes. Shit, I was getting myself into very precarious territory.

* * *

><p>Writer's note: So I know the article in there is a little word-heavy, but I wanted to make it clearer just how big and influential Sakura's dad is. And look! Sasuke gave Sakura a key! D'aww. Anyway, please review!<p> 


	3. Red Light

_Two could be complete without the rest of the world  
><em>_Two could be complete without the rest of the world  
>Do it for the people that have died for your sake<br>An entire generation that has nothing to say  
>How'd you make your way to me?<em>

_All the girls could never make me love them the way I love you_

- The Strokes

* * *

><p>It took a while for me to figure out Sakura's sleeping pattern- eventually I realized that she just didn't have one. On the first night, she fell asleep at seven pm and woke up at noon the next day, and that night she stayed up until six thirty the next morning, watching South Park with me until she crashed on the couch with her head on my shoulder.<p>

And whenever she was awake, all she wanted to do was hang out with me, no matter what boring thing I was doing. At one point, she demanded me to draw something. "Anything," she'd said, "I just wanna see how you work." Rolling my eyes, I decided I didn't care enough to argue and did as I was told, sketching the grimy street outside the window from my view at the kitchen table. She sat across from me, her eyes glued lazily to my sketchbook as she absentmindedly fingered the pomegranate seeds painted onto the tabletop.

I glimpsed her gaze drift to the window through my peripheral vision, and she placed her chin in her palm as she watched the world outside. Eventually she stated idly, "I hate New Yorkers."

Looking up from my sketch indignantly, I asked, "Why, what'd we do?"

"Are you kidding? If the world was a high school, we'd be the rich-bitch prom queen who rules the student body, drives a Hummer to school and eats Caviar for lunch. And sleeps with no regrets every night."

"Tch."

She looked at me accusingly and asked, "What?"

I grunted in reply, raising an eyebrow skeptically, "New Yorkers are angry, but they're not bratty. And definitely not that rich. Are you sure you're not just describing yourself?"

She scoffed, honestly affronted, and struck me upside the head with considerable force and a residual sting. "Ow!"

She laughed haughtily, crossing her arms. "I grew up with two older brothers. Don't think I don't know how to hurt you."

"Yeah, you also grew up eating Caviar. And I have no doubt you were prom queen. And that thing about sleep?"

"What about it?" she spat, giving me a glare.

I scoffed incredulously. "You sleep all the time! And at the _weirdest_ times. I get the feeling no one's ever made you do anything that wasn't in your own best interest."

"Hey, I just got out of the hospital, as you well know! I think I deserve a little leeway concerning how much I sleep."

I went silent. I got the feeling she didn't want to talk about her stint in the sickbay, and I wasn't exactly keen to upset her. But this time, she'd brought it up.

After a moment of looking at her with a staid expression, I asked tentatively, "So- what happened, with that, anyway? I mean, why were you in-"

She cut me off with a snort. "Fuck if I know."

I blinked. "So you really don't remember a thing?"

"Everything my dad told the papers was true," she answered quickly. I noticed immediately that that answer sounded memorized- and that it wasn't really an answer.

"Now finish your homework," she commanded, patting the sketch.

She'd also been trying incessantly to weasel details of my life out of me, because I'd told her I knew what it was like to have a shitty family- biggest mistake of my life. She'd bring up potentially dicey subjects, or ask little questions whose answers would reveal much more than I'd prefer. I tried not to tell her a thing. Unfortunately for me, she was razor sharp, and a superb liar. She put some things together that my life would have been better off without.

"So, Chang," she'd piped up once, out of the blue, while I was reading on the couch. I looked up disinterestedly for a moment, hoping to god she would just shut up about it.

"How do you know him?" She asked it with a perfectly light tone, but I knew where this was headed.

"We used to be neighbors," I replied, my gaze glued to the words in front of me.

"Right, right," she said, nodding her head, continuing in the same buoyant voice, "But then- how come, when you brought a random injured chick to his house, he didn't- well, I mean, I just got the feeling he was used to you doing that sort of thing."

"He's a doctor. It's his job to stay calm in any situation." I caught the purse in her lips from the corner of my eye. "Do you ever have to pay him back?"

Her eyes were perfectly wide and naively curious, but I could practically smell the guile in her voice.

What a sneaky question. If I answered, it would confirm that I'd brought people to Chang before. If I didn't, it would tell her the same thing anyway.

"I don't know," I replied, shrugging innocently. Ha ha, see? I could play this game too.

She huffed. "We should pay him back! I feel bad."

Laying my head back and growling, I grumbled a long, "Noooo. Just forget about it."

She gave me a judging look and said, "Fine, then _I'll_ pay him back, if you don't think he deserves it. Do you think I should buy him a new couch, too?"

I grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over my face, groaning. She continued, "I think I will. So how much do you think it would have cost if I'd gone to the hospital? But maybe I should pay him more- for, like, a rush job or something, you know? And for convenience. _Oh_, maybe I could-"

"Oh my god, shut up."

"You shut up! You're the one with no decency here. We owe him, Sasuke."

"And he owes me! So just drop it!"

She blinked. After a moment she asked emphatically, "What for?"

"What?" I said quickly, and she sat up a little straighter, realizing she was really onto something. With sharp diction, she repeated, "What does Chang owe you for, Sasuke?"

"Oh my god, nothing," I said, grinding my teeth and grasping the air with my hands for emphasis. She huffed and turned back to her book, and I followed her example.

Moments later, she slapped her book onto her lap. Dropping the pretenses with a sigh, she griped, "Oh, come on, Sasuke. Just give me _something_."

"Nope," I answered simply, flipping the page.

"Why not?" Her prickly voice revealed the glare her eyes were giving me. Looking up with an empty smile, I replied in a snooty whine, "Because if I tell you one thing you'll make me tell you everything." Chuckling as I turned back to my book, I added in a completely audible murmur, "I don't even know why you care in the first place." That got me a book slap to the back of the head.

* * *

><p>Later on, when I announced I was going to work, she perked up from her station at my decrepit 1970s armchair and said, "Ooh! I'll come with you."<p>

Seeing my flabbergasted expression, her shoulders deflated and she said with an embarrassed smile, "I don't… really like being here when you're not here. It's just…" she motioned to the ceiling with her eyes, I looked up, and our gazes rested on the blurry, red-eyed demon made out of crayon skyscrapers hanging over us. "…a little gloomy," she finished.

I sighed, defeated. "Come on," she pressed, "I'll just walk you there, and then I'll leave. I promise." Heaving a sigh, I turned toward the door and waved my hand, acceding, "Fine." She hopped off the couch with a giggle.

On the walk to the subway, we settled into an easy quiet. I had the feeling that Sakura was never without something to say, so I didn't tempt her by starting a conversation.

I was abnormally conscious of how close together we were walking. It was close enough that our swinging arms could bump if my hands weren't stuffed in my pockets. I did that on purpose.

I hate that- when people bump feet under the table or brush each others' arms in bed. Both are completely aware of it, but neither acknowledges it. I guess in general, I get a little agitated when people touch me.

I think Sakura realized how tense I was by my stiff posture, because she chuckled quietly and wormed her hand into the microscopic gap between my rigid arm and my ribs, clutching my arm tightly and leaning into my shoulder. I felt the rough friction of her gray hat- er, my hat, actually- against my jacket. Somehow, that didn't help- I was all the more aware of her grip and the movement of her body as she strolled. I felt her fall into step with me, and we walked in quiet syncopation to the subway.

It was that time of day when the train was scattered sporadically with empty seats. Sakura pulled me wordlessly but surely to two at the back.

A couple minutes into the ride she suddenly piped up, "Why do you have a car?"

"What?" I looked up, startled by the sudden banter. She said, "This is New York City. No one needs a car here. So why do you have one?"

"It's not mine. I'm… holding onto it, for someone."

"A family member?" she asked, and I momentarily forgot she was so interested in that subject. I nodded. "Your brother?" she asked, and I whipped my head around to look at her, alarmed. "Who told you it's my brother's?"

She smiled pitiably and said in an _oh, honey_ tone of voice, "You did. Just now."

I blinked, then huffed, turning away with a disgruntled expression. She laughed and shook my shoulder, laughing an apology. I spat back, really only about two-thirds joking, "Don't talk to me, bitch." But I ended the statement with an affronted laugh, and she punched me in the arm with a snigger.

"So who is this brother of yours?" she asked, and my snicker turned into a scowl, directed at her deviously genuine face. Her eyebrows shot up. "Wow. You two must not get along."

I snorted scornfully. "You could say that."

"So what is it? Parents love him more? He treat you like shit? Ignore you? Oooh, steal your girl?" She finished with a mock horrified gasp.

I gave her an annoyed glare, knowing it wouldn't make her shut up. She just looked at me expectantly and asked, "Well?"

Shaking my head at her, I answered only, "Nope." She huffed.

"God Sasuke, your stubbornness is getting old fast," she growled, and I laughed, leaning back and crossing my arms. I kept my mouth shut, and she turned away. _Now_ it was an awkward silence. It lasted about forty seconds before Sakura turned back to me and asked, clearly still miffed, "Am I being annoying?"

I gave her the same look she'd given me before, like I couldn't believe what a dumbass she was. She huffed, offended, and said loudly, "What!"

I rolled my eyes, answering just as loudly, "You keep trying to talk about my family when I clearly don't want to. Yeah, that's annoying."

A moment of glaring passed, but it was dispelled by the laugh Sakura couldn't keep down. I sighed and chuckled too, rolling my eyes.

"Sorry Sasuke," she smiled, pinching my cheekbone. And I shoved her so hard she fell off the side of her seat- hey, I grew up with brothers too. We got a few miffed glares from fellow commuters scattered in the other seats, but Sakura managed not to notice them, and I shook my head with a smile. Pulling her back up to her seat, I chuckled, "I think you're bipolar."

"Only when I'm with you," she said, poking the tip of my nose deceptively hard. I waved her hand away with another, "Ow!"

Eyes lit up devilishly, she cackled, laughing despite herself. I realized I liked hearing her laugh.

* * *

><p>Writer's Note: This interim chapter was really just to show the development going on in Sasuke and Sakura's relationship. Also I made Sakura less ridiculous. The way I was writing her before really annoyed me :D please review!<br>p.s. The song for this chapter is seriously perfect- if you listen to it while reading then it will enhance the whole experience, I think


	4. WTF?

_I've been trying to get my head around what the fuck is happenin_g  
><em>I'm trying to make some sense out of whatcha doin' with my head<em>  
><em>It's like a skydive, you're getting high, the kind of thrill that'll maybe kill ya<em>  
><em>It's like I'm eye-to-eye, wild-eyed, oooh I don't know what to tell ya<em>  
><em>There's just this thing about ya<em>

- Ok Go

* * *

><p>True to her word, Sakura walked Sasuke all the way to Meininger's, but not a step beyond. As she turned down the sidewalk in a new direction, she heard that cool voice behind her. Leaning out of the doorway, Sasuke called after her, "Sakura! Will you be home when I get back?"<p>

Sakura just gave him a shrug and kept walking away, unable to smother the little smile that crept onto her lips when he automatically said 'home'. It was a slip of the tongue, nothing more, yet she couldn't wipe that goofy grin off her face.

As she crossed to the other side of the street, an unexpected aroma hit her. Was that- ramen? Sakura found herself suddenly ravenous, and followed her nose toward the tempting scent.

The ramen joint was directly across the boulevard from Sasuke's work. In fact, taking a seat at the raised bar against the street window, Sakura found she could see him at his register beyond the layers of glass. At first, when she noticed, she just laughed. But her gaze unintentionally lingered. Her cheek fell to rest on her palm, and her wide grin softened into a gentle stare, her eyes still holding all the warmth of a smile. Time just reeled by, completely disregarded, as she watched.

It occurred to Sakura why she found it so absorbing to watch Sasuke: his physical mannerisms- every precise and deliberate step he took, every movement revealing his grace, firm control, and quiet strength- matched his personality exactly. She studied him as he turned to a table behind him in between customers, hunching slightly over some unidentified and undoubtedly gorgeous charcoal piece. His lips were turned down in a slight frown, his eyes squinting and jumping around the page with the unyielding scrutiny of a detective at a crime scene. He made only brief, infrequent, calculated movements with his charcoal pencil, but she knew that what he was doing, he was doing flawlessly.

Little did Sakura know, a sapphire-eyed blonde standing behind the counter four feet from her had identified her the instant he saw her, and now, just by following her gaze, had recognized something she hadn't even admitted to herself.

She heaved an unconscious sigh as she stared out the window, and Naruto made a decision.

"You like Sasuke, don't you?" he suddenly addressed her.

Sakura's posture snapped up with almost military severity, and she whipped around, stunned ocean eyes trained on Naruto's easy smile. Her surprise was still obvious in the back of her voice as she managed, "Wha-"

"You're Sakura Haruno, right?"

She blinked, her jaw closing, and she sighed, "And here I thought the hat did _something_."

"Actually, it was the eyes- that color's not exactly universal."

Her dazzling eyes visibly twinkled for a moment. Shaking away the grin skimming her lips, she cleared her throat, asking, "How- um, how do you know Sasuke?"

"I gave him that hat," Naruto replied with a grin, nodding to the gray beanie still sitting on her head as his arms rested easily on the countertop. Sakura blushed with an embarrassed smile, but Naruto just offered his hand over the shelf separating them. "Naruto Uzumaki. I'm Sasuke's friend."

"Sakura- …Haruno," she replied, shaking his hand unsurely, "Sasuke's… roommate?"

Naruto laughed a strident, warm hoot and said, "That's right! He hit you with his car, didn't he?"

She laughed and said, baited, "He told you that? I can't get him to tell me _anything!_"

"He… plays things closer to the best these days." Some of the glee between them died down, but a thought occurred to Sakura. "So he tells you things? About himself, I mean?"

Naruto shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. There are still a lot of pieces missing in the puzzle that is Sasuke, though. And I bet there's a lot no one'll ever fill in… But I've learned to be content with what I've got. I know enough to know he trusts me with it."

Soaking in Naruto's words, Sakura gave Sasuke's back a melancholy smile through the ramen shop window.

"Wow," Naruto said quietly, "You really are in love with him." Again, cerulean eyes snapped back to cobalt ones, but she made no effort to deny it.

"Can… can you tell me something? About Sasuke?"

At Naruto's reluctant reaction, she grabbed his hand, cutting his sentence off before it began. "Please! It could be anything. I just… hate being so in the dark. And _he_ won't ever notice it bothers me. And even if he does, he'll just shrug it off because he thinks it's not important."

Naruto sighed. He himself was certainly familiar with that side of Sasuke. Which meant, he realized, that Sakura knew him surprisingly well too. That insight may have been the reason he told her what he did.

Shrugging, he said, "What do you wanna know? And remember, I'm pretty sure I know almost nothing, so don't be too disappointed."

Snapping immediately to action, Sakura leaned forward eagerly and said, "Tell me about his brother!"

Naruto drew back, a perplexed look on his face. "Which one?"

Sakura's jaw dropped momentarily. There was more than one? "Well… how many does he have? What are their names, ages? Where do they live, what do they do? Are they close with Sasuke?"

Slightly worried by how little Sakura knew, Naruto answered, "Itachi's the oldest- he's twenty seven- and they have an eighteen-year-old brother named Hiro. Actually, you might've heard of both of them."

Blinking, Sakura asked innocently, "Why?"

"Well Hiro's kind of this elite concert pianist- you know, like Carnegie Hall status. And Itachi is…" Naruto's jaw hung slack for a while, trying to find the right words, but in the end he just sighed and closed his mouth.

"What? Itachi's _what?_" Sakura leaned in further, gripping the edge of the counter with white knuckles.

"…in prison."

A silent moment passed. Sakura slowly pushed herself off the counter, giving Naruto a wary look. Carefully, she asked, "What did he do?"

Naruto sighed again, leaning in and answering quietly, "Well- I don't think Sasuke knows I know this- apparently, Itachi tried to kill their dad and a bunch of cops from his precinct."

"Their dad's a sheriff?" she interjected skeptically, and Naruto guffawed in bewilderment, "That's all you got from what I just said?"

"Well- I just got the feeling their family… operated _outside_ the law. This doesn't make any sense."

"What gave you that idea?" Naruto asked with a shrewd stare. Sakura's curiosity immediately shied away behind her panic, and she stuttered abruptly, "Oh, you know, just a feeling…!"

Naruto crossed his arms and gave her a knowing look. Heaving a sigh, she rephrased, "Sasuke took me to this guy Chang when I couldn't go to the hospital, and he stitched me up without asking any questions. Plus, I've found- you know, just- a gun… or, you know, six, or whatever, in his apartment…"

After a wide-eyed gaze from Naruto, he shrugged almost apologetically. "He's… I mean, he's… paranoid…" he finished lamely, and they smiled wryly at each other, neither convinced.

"But I'm surprised none of it really bothers you," Naruto mused.

"What, his family?" Sakura sniggered. "Have you seen _The Inquirer_ lately? According to them, my dad's had five people 'relocated to Mexico' in the past month for serving him soggy oatmeal- and that's not a very far cry from the truth. So I'm not exactly a stranger to that life."

Sakura's statement made Naruto realize something: Sasuke was trying like hell to split from his past, and here was Sakura, who was deeply immersed in both that foul life and Sasuke's. Maybe having Sakura around was counterintuitive to Sasuke's cause.

He was knocked out of his thoughts by Sakura's giddy exclamation of, "Oh, shit! He's coming over here!"

His gaze followed hers out the window, where they could see Sasuke standing at the curb with his hands in his pockets, watching the street as he waited to cross. She turned urgently to Naruto, asking, "How can his shift be over already!"

"When my shift started, you were already here."

She stared at him for a moment, then gave him a sarcastic, "_So?_"

"Wha- my shift started two hours ago!"

Sakura gasped. "I've been here that long?! ...Okay. Um, he can't know I talked to you, okay?" The blonde nodded, and she continued in the same jittery tone, "Is there a- a backdoor here, or something?"

"Yeah, go ahead. I think it's unlocked."

"Okay, where?"

"…In the back."

Sakura let out a rushed laugh at herself and took off. But just as she was just about to disappear around a far corner, she ran back. Leaning over the counter, she kissed Naruto lightly on the cheek and said before rushing off with a wild smile, "Thanks so much- for telling me those things. And for saying… well- I'll see you later!"

Naruto heard the back door slam shut just as Sasuke swung the front one open.

* * *

><p>Sakura needed to kill some time. She didn't want to get back to the apartment before Sasuke- it was just too dark in there without him. It was like being inside his mind- when he wasn't there, there was no protective creator around to reign in the unlimited, wretched creation.<p>

Plus, she wanted to center her thoughts. Her senses had just been flooded with a muddled and incongruous traffic jam of unexpected information, and if she didn't get a mental traffic cop up in there soon it would be sure to clog up her neural highways for days.

Sakura headed to the one place in the city where she felt most comfortable- which was, unfortunately, also the most unsafe place for her to go: Manhattan. But she needed quiet, and calm. She needed white spaces.

She went to the MOMA. It had always been her and her brothers' secret hideout, whenever any of them ran away or needed a familiar face. No one else from the family ever found out about it, so technically the hideout was still a fully functional hiding place- but she and Izaya hadn't been back since Hatori's death.

It was wonderful to go back, and weird. The slow, restful pace of the museum helped carve a lazy river of Sakura's consciousness, slowing it down and containing it. She let the art, the quiet, the soft light wash over her and work their magic, realizing as it returned how much she'd missed the feeling. Thoughts swirled around the edges of her brain in slow motion, losing urgency with each turn.

She slowly became aware of memories of Hatori slipping into the mix. One, in particular, made her shake her eyes awake and stop her stream of consciousness in its tracks: she thought, _Why did he die? Who killed him?...How do I find whoever did it?_

She hadn't dared address those questions since her affair in the Hudson River. In the hospital, Izaya had told her to forget about it- he knew how stubborn she could be- but she hadn't argued the point. She was still aggravated beyond belief, but an equivalent amount of fear had been instilled in her to match that sentiment.

Keeping her thoughts at a safe distance from that menacing territory, Sakura felt them wandering back towards Sasuke. His concentrating, careful face as he worked, and the way his scrumptious jaw would suspend perfectly perpendicular to the page… the slight smiles he flashed, unknowingly, while speaking, that reflected the lilt of his voice perfectly… The voluptuous, sultry lines to his artwork that just made it so much sexier than everyone else's… Sakura dazedly realized she was seeing Sasuke's style in every piece her eyes perceived-

Wait a minute.

Sakura snapped out of her half-conscious amble. Backing up with a double-take, she looked at the piece she'd just sauntered by more closely- it was a massive abstract oil painting of yellow trees and blue faces, all withering at the touch of a dark red mass of people. Rushing to the name plaque, she almost shrieked as she realized what she'd half noticed had been true. There was the name, right there, in elegant serif lettering: Sasuke Uchiha.

She ran to the four previous pieces, and there it was again. Fuck, she realized, she didn't know Sasuke was so spectacular as to have _five_ pieces in the MOMA.

She was staring at the first with a huge grin on her face when she heard a trill woman's voice beside her say, "Magnificent, aren't they?"

Sakura jumped in surprise, turning to the woman and saying, "Oh, yeah. Fantastic."

"Yes… his choice of colors is so well exaggerated, especially at the points where they clash, and the texture makes it so interesting."

Sakura nodded, smiling slowly. She was already getting turned off by this chick. "Yep. It's… gritty," she offered, describing the texture rather lamely. The woman gave her what could only be construed as a laugh of pity before continuing, "Every inch has something going on in it- but at the same time, it's not too busy. Just enough to keep the audience interested."

Sakura nodded again, this time with an absolutely fake smile, and took in the woman's appearance. Unfortunately, she was pretty- repulsive people should never be pretty. She had long, spiky hair the color of maraschino cherries, and wore glasses with thick, dark frames. They were flattering on her, goddamn it.

As soon as the thoughts occurred to her, Sakura felt bad- this woman was just saying nice things about Sasuke's work, after all. But it still put her in a foul mood. She felt like poking.

"Do you… know the artist, by chance?" Sakura asked sweetly, a sharp glimmer in her eye. To her surprise, the redhead just blushed, laughed a completely fake laugh, and replied, "Rather intimately, in fact."

A swell of territorial pride flared up in Sakura, and she replied sourly, "Really. How so?"

"Oh, we don't like to define our relationship. Sasuke keeps wanting to take it further, but I'd rather take it slow." The woman ended the statement with another coy giggle.

Sakura literally felt her eye twitch. She smiled forcibly and said, "How lucky for you, to be the special someone of such an incredibly artist."

The redhead nodded with an, "Mm hmm. Yes…"

"I'd bet you're even his special muse."

With another creepy laugh hidden behind her fingers, the woman replied, "Well, I don't want to brag…"

Steam was billowing out her ears by the time Sakura managed, "So how do you two know each other?"

Then yet another unexpected thing went down: The woman turned to Sakura with the most venomous glare she'd ever received and said with a tongue like a sword, "You know, that's a private matter. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you have some sort of creepy… _fetish_ with Sasuke- but be warned. If any little bitch tries to come between us, I will _claw her eyes out_."

Sakura just blinked at the toxic glare radiating decay mere inches from her face. Hello, she was the daughter of Shukketsu Haruno- threats didn't scare her. She just leaned up (the redhead was taller) toward her face and growled menacingly, her tongue practically ripping over the 't's, "I wouldn't dream of it."

With that, Sakura stalked off, leaving the creepy redhead to her delusional infatuation.

* * *

><p>I took the weird way home from work- for some reason, I got the feeling Naruto was trying to make me avoid the usual route, but for whatever reason I figured I'd humor him. This way was possibly shorter, but much more densely inhabited (hence the alternate course). It took me past hordes of stores and busy streets, where the grime of the city is less evident, but the odor of the sewers and the rats and the people is worse than ever.<p>

I received a bit of a shock when I passed a local electronics store- their display window was filled with TV screens, all showing the same thing: A blurry picture of a girl with pink hair lying in a hospital bed, and the big yellow headline, "SAKURA HARUNO: MIA!" A throng had gathered, crowding the sidewalk in front of the window, climbing over each other to hear the news. I shoved my way to the front. The volume was blasting through the open door, and the full announcement scrolled by at the bottom of the screen.

_"…released a statement this afternoon revealing that the young blueblood Sakura Haruno, who has been hospitalized for the last month, has been reported missing to the police. Hospital staff said she was supposed to be checked out by a family member two weeks ago, but mysteriously departed from the hospital the night before, and has not been seen since. However, the hospital has confirmed that she was completely healthy at the time of her disappearance, and there is no need for pressing medical concern._

"_The Haruno family, however, is not so live-and-let-live concerning the safety of their daughter. Since the recent death of their eldest son, Hatori, tensions have run high concerning the safety of all the young Harunos and their extended family. This sudden disappearance certainly doesn't look good. However, a short talk with Sakura's elder brother, Izaya, has left many feeling relieved._"

A clip started of a tall guy, looking about twenty one, with hair a striking golden shade that blurred the boundaries of blonde and brunette, overshadowed only by the unique shades of his eyes: One, his left, was a more intense, darker, and yet brighter brown than his hazel hair. The other, his right, had become extraordinarily familiar to me recently: it was Sakura's eye, falling in the perfect balance between emerald and sky blue. This was undoubtedly her brother.

The clip began with a wobbling camera chasing after Izaya's back. The holder of the camera shouted, "Izaya, do you think your sister is in any danger!"

Izaya stopped, turned, and answered the reporter with a sigh, "Of course we're all worried- especially after the close call she had last month. But this time, she disappeared on her own. I honestly think it was her choice. After all the stress with the hospital and the media, and Hatori's death-" his voice hitched just the smallest bit when he said his brother's name- "No one can blame her for needing a little break."

The interviewer pressed, "So you think your sister's in no danger?"

Sighing, Izaya answered quietly, "I can only hope so- there's no way to know. But I _do_ know what my sister is like, and I know this is exactly what either of us would do in her situation. Then again, I don't want any false hope to come back and bite us in the a** later."

For some reason, my brain focused only on the fact that they bleeped out the word 'ass'.

Eventually, the crowd around me filtered and morphed into different faces, and I realized I'd already seen the announcement they were repeating. Wrestling my way away from the mob, I walked and walked, not caring where I was going, until I found a quiet street. Leaning back against the cool brick of an old apartment building, I took a deep breath, blinked my sluggish reactions into full speed, and said, simply, "Shit."

* * *

><p>Writer's Note: Pretty sure I didn't change much here. Phew! Please Review! Gracias!<p> 


	5. Whistle For The Choir

_Well, it's a big, big city and it's always the same  
>Can never be too pretty, tell me your name<br>Is it out of line if I was to be bold  
>And say, "Would you be mine?"<em>

_So if you're lonely, why'd you say you're not lonely?  
>Oh, you're a silly girl, I know I hurt you so<br>It's just like you to come and go_

_And know me, no, you don't even know me  
>You're so sweet to try, oh my, you caught my eye<br>A girl like you's just irresistible_

-The Fratellis

* * *

><p>Sakura was fuming all the way home. She was caught somewhere between the idea that this fire-crotch bitch actually thought she stood a chance with Sasuke, <em>her<em> Sasuke, and the dread that maybe they actually had some sort of an affiliation. She wasn't even trying to argue with herself- Sasuke was _hers_. It had become increasingly clear to her that no one else would do.

Every time her thoughts wandered back to him- his eyes pools of infinite ink veiled behind a shadow of unseen desolation, his lean, muscular, strapping frame and those protective broad shoulders, the serious expression he made when he slept (though it was never for long)- Sakura felt herself starting to melt. He was stoic and cold as an ice cube, but there were times when he couldn't hide his compassion from her. She could feel herself growing dangerously attached.

Sakura could say she knew a little something about stalkers- she herself had had a few overenthusiastic admirers, being New York's pink pearl. But she'd never been angry with them like she was now. Sure, this chick was probably delusional, and had probably never had a conversation with Sasuke in her life. But it still pissed Sakura off that she thought she deserved him. No one did! Sakura certainly wasn't under the impression that _she_ was somehow superior to every other girl out there with Sasuke on her mind-

Except that, well… she _was_ living in his apartment. He had given her a key. He didn't make her go to the hospital, he didn't make her leave… he was taking care of her. Despite how adamantly Sakura told herself that it was all just because of Sasuke's hidden compassionate nature, or that he just felt obligated because he hit her with his car, she couldn't help it. Everything he did made her feel special. He never told her anything about his past, or asked her anything about herself, but she still felt like he was letting her in.

Maybe she was just as delusional as that redhead. The thought made her heart sink further than she'd have thought possible two weeks ago.

* * *

><p>When Sakura got home, I was sitting at the kitchen table. She stomped in, slamming the door behind her and clearly about to rage at me when she stopped cold. All anger drained instantly from her face, along with the color. But she wasn't even looking at me. Her eyes had caught the newspaper lying abandoned across the table, with the headline clearly visible: "Youngest Haruno gone AWOL."<p>

I waited for her to say something. She didn't. She just stood there, dumbfounded, until finally she shook off the shock and wriggled back into her devil-may-care persona, slouching into the chair opposite me.

"You didn't tell me I was harboring a fugitive," I began nonchalantly.

Sakura tisked. "From my family, not from the _police_. Besides, nothing I did was more illegal than them selling my apartment while I was stuck in the hospital."

"Your dad's _probably_ worse than the NYPD, just saying. I would guess trying to stay away from him is harder _and _more dangerous."

Sakura rolled her eyes. "I'm not afraid of my father."

"You should be," I answered automatically.

"Are you?" she accused bitingly, fingernails clicking the table as she leaned forward. I blinked, then almost laughed. Honestly? No, not really. To me, 'evil oil tycoon' was just another item to check off the list, right between 'drug cartels' and 'border patrol'. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure Sakura already knew that.

"…I'm not about to underestimate him," I bit back, and she replied with scoff.

"Please. I can take care of myself." She crossed her arms, miffed.

"Last time I checked, you had trouble even crossing the street right."

She shot me a glare that could kill. After a moment, she said with a bite, "You know, you have a few glock 23s under the false floorboard by the couch. You want me to grab one and shut you up for good?"

It was my turn to go sheet white. Shit. Of _course_ she'd found my guns, she was the daughter of a fucking mobster. I'd been stupid to hope she wasn't trained in the legacy of her family.

Before I could respond, she added lazily, flopping her chin onto her palm and deliberately drifting her gaze out the window, "Naruto says you're just paranoid."

I bit down on the inside of my cheek and hid the pained howl that followed. Shit, she'd talked to Naruto. Sly little vixen.

"He would," I replied coolly. She tried to hide her exhilaration, but I saw her eyes pop wide for a split second before she asked calmly, "Why?"

"It helps him sleep at night," I said with a smirk, and she huffed. After a moment of fuming, she smacked the table.

"Don't do that, Sasuke!"

When I gave her a dense look, she said with no fervor lost, "Quit trying to hide who you are from me! I deserve to know about this stuff, I'm your- …your … roommate," she finished lamely. Picking up zeal again, she continued, "And… and you know way more about me than I know about you. That's not fair!"

I rolled my eyes and gave her a scathing look. I could tell she wanted to retort, but she just crossed her arms, leaned back, and shut her mouth with a final humph. I returned the glare she gave me for a moment. Finally I sighed and relaxed my shoulders. Standing up, I said, "You should call your brother. Channel Five says he's worried about you."

I started to walk away, but I paused at Sakura's complete silence. Turning around, I was taken aback by the stunned, horrified look on her face. She was holding the paper limply in her hand, staring at the front page. Her eyes sped across it, clinging to the string of words like a lifeline until she abruptly stopped, closed her eyes, and put the paper firmly back on the table.

A completely silent moment passed, where I looked at her and she looked at the back of her eyelids. I had the feeling I'd been completely forgotten.

Finally Sakura just sighed, achingly standing up like she had a fantastic weight on her shoulders.

"I'm tired," she muttered, and staggered to the bedroom, slamming the door firmly shut behind her. I watched it intently for a few minutes, feeling uneasy despite my efforts not to care. I'm not so thick that I couldn't admit it to myself: There was something about her sudden reduction in spirit that rattled me.

Whatever. I decided to assume she was actually asleep, so I left her alone for a while. Eleven hours, in fact. I know that for a fact because I watched TV the whole time, too tired to sleep, and every four minutes my gaze flicked to the paint-smudged clock on the far wall by the easel.

I may have had the rationality to admit I was gripped, but I also had the pride to keep myself from indulging my curiosity. So I didn't touch the newspaper. I just looked at it, sitting on the table, hardly visible through the kitchen doorframe and the dim light, every four minutes. It was a routine: TV, _huff_, clock, _sigh_, newspaper, _scowl_, TV… the bedroom door… _sigh_… TV, _huff_, clock…

I hadn't read the article. I'd skimmed the first few paragraphs, but it actually gave less information than Channel Five had so I threw it down. I hadn't actually set it up for Sakura to see it. Now I was kind of regretting my carelessness.

It took me a while to figure out that reading the article probably wouldn't tell me anything I didn't know- it was what Sakura knew that the paper didn't, I think. She made a connection, or something jogged her memory. I decided to think I was right, so I didn't touch the paper.

Finally, at _about_ 5:18 and 31.2 seconds in the morning, I chose not to care whether she was sleeping. I stood, heated, and marched to the door. My hand paused before it touched the doorknob- I realized I was getting hopelessly sucked in, into a mess that was completely Sakura's business and in no way mine. I didn't have to go in… did I? My callous expression twitched, softening, and I delicately turned the knob, stepping into the dark room with a slight frown and clicking the door shut behind me.

I could immediately tell she was awake. She was curled up in the corner of the bed under a pile of blankets, next to the wolf spider I painted after I read Harry Potter 2, with her forehead pressed against the cool plaster. Her eyes were half-lidded, exposing the fact that she was utterly lost in thought. Gradually, as I padded softly across the room and into her diminished bubble of perception, her breathing became more scattered and her stillness was more forced. She didn't move a muscle, but her awareness was back on the present- she knew I was there.

I strode to the foot of the bed, standing where she clearly knew I was looking at her and crossing my arms. She didn't acknowledge my presence, so I sighed, spun around, and flopped down on the bed next to her.

I was hyperaware of the fact that it was the first time we were in a bed together. I think she realized it too- her gaunt spine and jutting shoulder blades, clearly visible through her thin shirt and thin skin, was tenser than a murderer on trial. Technically I was just _on_ the bed. Still, it felt like the closest I'd ever been to her, there in the darkness.

My voice hardly rose above a whisper as I asked the room gently, "What's wrong?"

She didn't respond. Her frame went, if possible, tenser at the sound of my voice. I just watched the back of her rosy head, not expecting her to answer. But after a silent while, she did.

"It's February twenty-first." Her voice faltered, even at a whisper.

It took me a long time to figure out how to reply.

"…Yeah?" I muttered, realizing she was expecting me to know something I didn't.

"The twenty-third is in two days."

This time I just waited.

"…Hatori died a year ago, on February twenty-third."

Ah. Shit. I didn't speak- what could I say?

"I can't even go visit his grave."

The room fell silent with a final sigh.

* * *

><p>I woke up suddenly, when the first ray of legitimate sunlight crawled over the window ledge and hit Sakura's hair, lighting it up shinier than one would think possible. The reason this woke me up, though, was because my face was buried in it. This fact didn't settle on me until her soft, distinctive scent washed over me- wow, she even <em>smelled<em> like a rose- and I realized our proximity. I jolted away wide-eyed, scrambling off the bed with as few movements as possible. She stirred, and I heard her heave a drained sigh behind me. I left the room pronto, without turning back.

As usual, I hadn't slept long. But I'd slept _deep_. For once, I felt like I could kind of function. I actually made myself peanut butter toast for breakfast and sorted through the massive pile of bills I'd shoved into one of the kitchen cupboards that was supposed to be for silverware. I read most of the newspaper that was still on the table- though I carefully avoided Sakura's article- de-smudged the TV screen, the clock, and the windows, compiled at least seven frighteningly overdue library books, found the spare key to Itachi's car, along with a ten-year-old key whose lock secured the apartment which my family had occupied until I turned thirteen, and started work on a large oil piece that was uncharacteristically bright- there was a lot of pink. All of that took me nine hours.

Sakura didn't leave the bedroom once.

I had to work at three. Before I left, I contemplated popping my head in to tell Sakura I was leaving. But I guess something in me was still hoping she'd come out of her own accord, so I left her undisturbed.

* * *

><p>After work, I stomped into Ichiraku Ramen with a mad glint in my eyes. Naruto could immediately tell I was in a foul mood by the grinding of my jaw and the unconscious clenching of my fists. The instant he saw me he laughed nervously, ducking behind the tall counter when I threw my shoe at him. It struck the wall behind him with an ominous bang, leaving a dark smudge where the treads hit the wallpaper.<p>

Naruto stood up, clearly affronted. "Douche, that could have knocked my head off!"

"At least you wouldn't be able to _talk_," I spat back. Naruto blinked, dumbfounded for a moment before my meaning dawned on him. His dropped jaw turned into a hazardous grin and he looked at me, clearly lost for words, but I saved him.

"What did you tell her?" I asked, my consonants knife-sharp.

Naruto threw his hands up in friendly surrender. "Nothing, I swear! Basically!" he squealed.

Slapping my hand firmly on the countertop, all I had to say was a menacing, "_Naruto_?"

The blonde sighed. "She just asked about your brothers."

My eyes went wide in alarm. "Naruto, did you tell her-"

"Of course not!" he cut me off, tisking at my lack of trust. "All I said was your brothers' names. And that your dad is a sheriff. And that… Itachi's in prison?" he finished with a nervous laugh.

"Did you tell her _why?_" I whispered venomously. Naruto swallowed. "O- only the basics. Just that he tried to kill your dad and the Akatsuki."

"You told her about the Akatsuki?!" I exclaimed, making a choking gesture in the air. Naruto threw up his hands and said, "Hell no, I'm not an idiot! I just said they were a bunch of guys in your dad's precinct."

It took me a moment to calm down. I blinked and swallowed, eventually letting my fists fall back to the countertop. "Man, you've got to stop telling the truth."

Naruto gazed at me for a minute before leaning in, murmuring, "You know, she's pretty sharp. I think she knows more than she's letting on."

"What makes you think that?"

"When I told her your dad's a sheriff, she was surprised he wasn't a criminal. And she found your guns, idiot. And she said you-" Naruto cut himself off, leaning back with crossed arms and adopting a superior smirk.

"She said you took her to Chang."

My left eyebrow shot up involuntarily, and the glare I shot him scathed. Naruto, enjoying this momentary supremacy, raised a condescending eyebrow right back at me and asked in an infuriating cocky tone, "_Why_ did you do that? Why didn't you just take her to the hospital!"

Rolling my eyes, I replied, "Haven't you seen the news? When you're on the run it's kind of counterintuitive to go straight back to the place you just escaped."

"But now she knows too much," Naruto interjected, impervious to my deadly sarcasm.

"And that's _my_ fault?" I retorted, huffing. "…It doesn't matter, anyway."

For some reason, that silenced Naruto. He just looked at me with a calculating gaze, like he was looking inside me rather than at me. It was unsettling.

I punched him (kinda hard) in the arm with an affronted face, and he was shaken out of his thoughts, grinning at himself. "Shit, man, I gotta work," he said, shoving my shoulder.

As I was about to walk out the door, I heard Naruto's voice behind me. It was quiet- I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to hear it. He said, "She loves _you_, too."

My left foot flubbed over my right, and I grabbed the doorframe as I stumbled. For a moment I just hung to the metal, wide-eyed and paralyzed by shock, before I shook myself out of it and paced coolly away.

* * *

><p>Writer's note: AHA! Revelations! Big change: I'm starting to bring in the Akatsuki much earlier now. Hoorah! Also, how on earth will Sasuke react, now that he knows Sakura's feelings?! Please review!<p> 


	6. Raise the Dead

_The dark is plaguing our hearts  
>Pumping through us and collecting in our deepest parts<br>Down there it's dripping like tar  
>And it's stuck to your arms and it's sticking to you too long<em>

_The time is higher than high  
>Something lurking in your shadow that keeps trying to hide<br>Oh no, we want it alive  
>To get out, to get out, to get out of your insides<em>

_All our friends have met their ends  
>And followed demons tonight<em>

_Hear it now, the night is calling us  
>Wave your hands and summon the spirits up<br>Tonight, tonight, tonight,  
>We raise the dead!<em>

- Phantom Planet

* * *

><p>When I got home from Ichiraku Ramen, I felt completely weird. Naruto's words were drilling holes in my skull from the inside out: "She loves you, too," he'd said. What the fuck did that mean?<p>

I was hyperaware of Sakura, sleeping in the bed, in _my_ bed, fifteen feet away from where I paced in front of the TV. Even though it was through a wall, I still felt like I could feel her tossing and turning, hear the quiet sighs she'd heave in her sleep, even pick up on the dark mood of her disquieting dreams- it was a mood that seeped inexplicably from her fragile, sleeping form, throwing the entire apartment into shadow.

I wasn't stupid. I realized how profoundly Sakura affected me. Everything she did made me tense up; every syllable spoke sent shivers down my spine. Every touch lingered like a burn on my skin. But my reactions were something I could control absolutely, so I did- by not reacting at all. I never gave a second thought as to whether that was what I wanted.

I'm also not such a fool as to believe that I was imagining the way Sakura was reacting to me- I felt her breath catch whenever I entered a room, noticed the nervous ranting and the tense uncertainty in her voice when she spoke to me. But I couldn't understand why.

And then Naruto throws this curveball, and my mind goes into chaos. Apparently, she felt something for me- now all I had to do was figure out what to do next. If I told her everything, would she stay? Or would she get scared and split? Why was she so curious about my past? _What the fuck did this woman want? _

I found myself stomping toward the bedroom door, ready to confront her about it- shit, what a stupid reason to be pissed off. I wasn't mad because she wanted to know about my past. I think I was mad because she didn't ask about anything else.

I was also mad because she kept making her shit into my shit. A car wreck and a shady distaste for hospitals, a trigger-happy family and a six-figure reward for her safe return, her face on magazines and milk cartons, a drunk mother, a scary father, a dead brother…

In all honesty, I could deal. Baggage was nothing I couldn't handle- hell, I had just as much of it. It was just the fact that she was using me as a partner in crime, a charitable inn keeper, and even a mannequin at times, and I just let her do it because I liked her so god damn much. It almost felt like she thought it was her _right_ to know things about me. Like somehow, because she had me wrapped around her little finger, she was allowed to be a part of my life.

But what really pissed me off was that… maybe she was. I was letting her manipulate me to get what she wanted because I didn't want her to leave. I almost felt like she was giving me an unspoken ultimatum: be useful, or say goodbye.

The unfairness of it all was what was driving me mad.

I was pacing the floor from the front door to the bedroom door, being extremely indecisive. I wanted to leave. No I didn't, I wanted to kick her out! …No I didn't. Maybe I should just leave. Wait, no way! Why should I leave my own apartment, when she was the one mooching off me for free! _She_ should leave! And so forth.

But then I heard the bedroom door creak open behind me, and my mind's angry ranting froze. There was a silent instant in which my temper calmed completely, and then I noticed my mood change and it pissed me off again. I wished she wouldn't affect me so much.

Heaving a sharp sigh, I turned slowly to face her. And then I saw her tearstained, tired eyes and her lost expression, and I remembered why she hadn't left the room in days.

Sakura inhaled deeply, trying to buck up the nerve to say something.

"What?" I said, managing to sound indifferent.

"Can I ask you a favor?" she asked, heartbroken eyes trained on mine.

"Can I say no?" I spat back, more scathingly than I'd meant to. Sakura drew back, hurt. She didn't understand why I'd asked.

"Yeah," she whispered. Shit, now I felt bad.

I sighed, letting go of my misguided anger, and asked in a calmer voice, "What is it?"

"Will you…" her breath hitched, and she stuttered to a halt. Sighing, she resigned herself to asking heartbreakingly, her voice quivering, "Will you give me a hug?"

I could tell that wasn't what she'd wanted to ask. But I also knew from the state of her that she needed a hug. The fact that I don't like to be touched didn't even occur to me.

I stepped forward, murmuring, "Come here," as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, her head sitting under my chin. She gripped my shirt and pulled me closer, burying her face in the fabric. She let out a sob as she clung to me, and the sadness of it hit me like a gust of cold air. I shuddered a sigh and pulled my arms tighter around her.

Somehow, the hug just didn't end. Sakura did nothing, and I kept my arms steady around her. Neither of us really wanted to address the fact, so we let it continue.

That is, until we both jumped when we heard a loud knock on the door. We jumped away from each other, ending the embrace. We looked at each other for a stunned moment, then turned to the door laughing at ourselves when the stranger outside knocked again. Sakura veered for the kitchen as I stepped toward the front door.

Behind it was someone I actually should have expected.

"Hi," I said simply, and the redhead responded with a sultry finesse, "Hey." As usual, she overdid it.

I waited for her to say something, but when she just stood there batting her eyelashes at me, I prompted, "…What's up?"

"Not much," she replied, leaning against the doorframe. I rolled my eyes. Take a fucking hint, girl.

"Karin," I grunted, and she nodded. "…Why are you here?"

I tried to say it in a tone of voice that wouldn't offend her, but with that sentence it's kind of hard to do. She abruptly stood up straight and said, clearly peeved, "Oh, I just thought I'd tell you the MOMA wants to extend your exhibit. I thought I should ask whether you wanted to blow off the Guggenheim."

My eyebrow twitched. "Isn't that _your_ job to decide?"

Karin's eyebrow mirrored mine. "And I was _trying_ to do my job right. Sorry I hoped you'd give a shit about your own work."

"You couldn't have asked me over the phone?" I grumbled through clenched teeth, and she fumed, "Sorry for doing my job right!"

It was the worst possible moment for it, but it happened: Sakura walked into the living room, asking in a voice that had clearly cried recently, "Sasuke, are we out of milk?"

Sakura stopped several feet behind me when she saw Karin in the doorway. Her expression was of complete shock, stifled by grief. It was nothing compared to Karin's- the redhead was already mad, so when she saw Sakura she practically started shaking. But instead of lashing out like she normally would, Karin turned to me and spat in a cutting whisper, "_Sasuke_?"

I just looked at her, flabbergasted that she would have this reaction to Sakura. Karin continued through her teeth, "Who the _hell_ is that?"

I didn't get the chance to answer, because I felt Sakura's hand on my arm as her quiet voice asked seriously, "Sasuke, do you know her?"

I turned to her, preferring to answer the less livid one, and was about to speak when I was cut off by Karin asking again, "Sasuke! WHO IS THIS?!"

Now I was getting irritated. I didn't answer the redhead's question. Fuck that. I slammed the door in her face, shouting, "I want the Guggenheim!"

Sakura and I heard but refused to acknowledge the infuriated scream from the other side of the door, followed by retreating stomping footsteps. Followed by total silence.

I could feel the unasked question burning Sakura's throat. Turning to face her with a wearied huff, I waited a moment before saying, "Go ahead, ask."

Sakura choked out, her voice squeaky and her shoulders stiff, "Ask what?"

I sighed. "That's Karin. She's my art dealer."

I watched the comprehension dawn on her face before she said, "I met her at the MOMA. She _really_ loves you…r art."

I guffawed unsmilingly and said, "Watch out for her. She's crazy."

"I got that impression," she replied just as humorlessly.

Silence returned. I watched her gaze travel from the floor to the window, gaining a dark shadow, and I knew her thoughts had returned to her brother.

I stepped forward, intending to… I don't even know… but in the same moment she turned away, going back into the bedroom and closing the door behind her with a final, "We need milk, by the way."

Suddenly, I felt extremely lonely.

* * *

><p>I woke Sakura up at 2 am, to do the favor she didn't want to ask me. Like the time mattered to her- by then she'd been sleeping for almost ten hours. When I got into the dark bedroom, I realized the shortcoming of my plan: she was on the far side of the bed, by the wolf spider. I would either have to shake her awake by the foot, or lean across the rest of the mattress to reach her shoulder.<p>

I decided on the shoulder, because I didn't even know if the foot thing would work. I padded quietly over to the long side of the bed, which was silly because she was about to be woken up anyway. I leaned over as steadily as possible, placing a hand stably on the mattress while the other reached for her shoulder. But before I even touched her, she moved, stirred by the depression of the mattress under my hand. She sat up with catlike quickness, the back of her hand smacking my face in the process.

She exclaimed, "What the- Sasuke? Oh, sorry!" as I bent away from her, clutching my throbbing nose.

"Are you okay?" she asked, placing a light hand on my back. Somehow, I could feel that more than the pain in my nose. "…What are you doing in here?" she asked in a tired voice, finally realizing the peculiarity of the situation.

"Waking you up. Come on, get up," I answered, scurrying from the bedroom with my tail between my legs.

A few minutes later, she came out of the bedroom in her pjs. I handed her a heavy leather coat (mine, so it was way too big on her) and her favorite gray hat. Donning my own head with a black one, I said as she stared in confusion at the garments in her hands, "Come on, we don't have all night." She looked at me uncertainly, but I caught the glimmer of exhilaration in her eyes.

* * *

><p>She didn't once ask where we were going. Not as we threw on our winter gear, nor as we locked the apartment behind us, nor as we went to the parking garage in the building's basement and settled into Itachi's shitty car. I don't think it mattered to her- for some reason, she had decided to trust me.<p>

Amazingly, she fell asleep in the car. Her pink cheek was pressed up against the cold glass of the shotgun window, and her slow, even breaths fogged it up every few seconds. As we left the lights of the city behind, the darkness around us lulled her slumber deeper.

When we reached our destination, I woke her up again- and I did it right this time. Shaking her shoulder softly, I whispered, "Sakura. We're here." She woke up right too- no flailing limbs, just a sudden inhalation and a dazed, "Where are we?"

But her question was answered as we drove beneath a gate emblazoned with the words 'Union Cemetery' painted in chipped gold. I immediately felt her tense up, but there was nothing I could do, so I pretended nothing had changed.

We parked in silence. When I got out of the car, Sakura didn't move. She sat staring forward with a frightened expression, clenching the too-long sleeves of my jacket with white knuckles. I sighed, walking around to her side of the car and unlatching the door.

I knelt beside her in the gap of the open door. She stared with intense concentration at her feet, even as I reached across her and unbuckled her seatbelt. I took her hand, whispering, "Come on," and with a sigh she let me pull her out of the car.

I don't think she even realized it, but Sakura took the lead through the rows of white marble headstones, clearly knowing exactly where she was going- which was a good thing, since it was dark and I didn't know where he was buried. Her hand was still clutched, forgotten, in mine.

Hatori's grave wasn't anything spectacular- it was just like every other headstone on the hill. Small, white, clean. Dignified. It read, _Hatori Haruno. Beloved brother and son_. Sakura stood next to me in front of it, just staring. Her hand hung limply in mine, and I could feel it trembling. Her gaze was locked to the letters, but I knew their meaning went disregarded. It was a few minutes before she moved.

Her legs finally buckled, and her knees slammed into the damp, frostbitten grass that covered her brother's grave. Her hand finally fell out of my grip. Her misty breath was trembling, and I could tell she was either trying not to cry or was simply too overwhelmed to do so.

I knelt down beside her and pulled her wavering shoulders close to mine, wrapping a shielding arm around her. I still don't know quite why. But she gripped my coat, letting me hold her as her tears leaked through my jacket.

We were there for almost an hour, sitting at Hatori's grave, before Sakura finally spoke. She set her forehead against my collarbone and murmured, "I haven't been back here since the day we buried him."

I sighed, thinking about another neglected grave. But I didn't want to remember that.

The thought of it brought me back to the news report I'd seen two days ago- the one about Sakura missing in action. I'd tried to avoid thinking about it since I found out, but I couldn't. There was just something so suspicious about her spell in the Hudson, and eerily familiar… Something told me _they_ were involved in all this.

I shook myself back to the present when Sakura asked, "Is that bad?"

I gave her a frustrated glance, hating the fact that she even asked, before I replied, "…You're here now. Does it make you feel better?"

She waited a minute, sighing, before she replied quietly, "No. Just sadder."

"Then no one can blame you for not wanting to come back. I'm sure your brother would understand."

Sakura sighed again and said, "That sounds like an answer learned from experience."

Damn it, why did she have to be so perceptive? I looked away, refusing to acknowledge her words, but that in itself was my answer.

"Who was it?" she asked, undeterred by my reluctance. Huffing, I grabbed a hunk of damp dead grass and ripped it from the ground. "My mom."

Sakura didn't try to pity me or apologize- in a way, she knew that would have been insulting. Instead she asked simply, "When?"

"Ten years ago."

There was a longer pause this time before she asked, "…How?"

I exhaled roughly, then sniggered sadistically, "Someone shot her in the head. In our living room."

Sakura gave me a hard look, knowing that was the only reaction I could accept.

"Is she here?" her voice whispered, and I nodded with a frown. Taking a deep breath, Sakura asked warily, "Do you want to see her?"

I finally looked directly in her eyes. To say the words out loud… I couldn't do it. I hadn't in nearly ten years. But she understood my meaning in my gaze.

Standing up with stiff muscles, she stretched her arms with a tired groan. I noticed her mood had lifted considerably. She held out a hand for me. I took it and stood, and she smiled softly, "Lead the way."

Mom's grave was old. Much like Hatori's, it was a simple headstone barely a foot tall. But it was older- the stone had been weathered and worn ragged, and the dead grass around it was sparse and pathetic. It really had been a long time since it had seen living company.

Sakura stood next to me, her arm hooked once again with mine. She read aloud, "Mikoto Uchiha. Loving wife and mother of three."

I said nothing. There was nothing I wanted to say- what could I? We stood there for a moment, Sakura and I, me brooding and her trying to be as respectfully quiet as possible. Until, of course, she suddenly exclaimed, "Oh! I'll be right back."

Then she ran off, unlatching her grip from mine. I watched her go, but the cemetery was dark and shadowed, and her departing back disappeared quickly in the gloom. Sighing and turning back to my mom's grave, I stepped closer and leaned over, brushing the rough stone with the tips of my fingers.

I so rarely allowed my mind to dwell on thoughts of her. I was thirteen when she died- when the fate of my family turned sour. It took me _years_ to get over it, and it's something I'll never be able to truly accept. Sometimes, on sleepless nights, I couldn't keep myself from remembering.

With a frown, I whispered, "I miss you, Mom."

Then I heard Sakura's footsteps returning behind me, and I turned to see her sprinting toward me with a single small daisy in her hand. I chuckled. It was so like her to do that.

She placed the soft white flower at the base of the headstone, stood up, and nodded in satisfaction.

I smiled sadly. Sakura gave me a peculiar look- it wasn't pity, it wasn't disappointment… I think it was affection. Pure, bona fide affection. Then she grabbed the collar of my jacket and pulled me close. For a split second, I thought she was going to kiss me. It took me a few seconds to comprehend that her face was not, however, connected with mine. It was instead, once again, buried in the folds of my jacket. Shrugging off the idea that I was disappointed, I just pulled her closer. She didn't say anything.

Sakura had never wanted to say three little words so much.

* * *

><p>Writer's Note: GREAT song here, one of my favorites. Please review! And yes, I did change some stuff here, though I can't for the life of me remember what...<p> 


	7. Scar Tissue

_Push me up against the wall  
>Young Kentucky girl in a push-up bra<br>Falling all over myself  
>To lift your heart and taste your health<em>

_Soft spoken with a broken jaw  
>Step outside but not to brawl<br>And autumn's sweet, but we call it 'fall'  
>I'll make it to the moon if I have to crawl<em>

_Scar tissue that I wish you saw  
>Sarcastic Mr. Know-It-All<br>Close your eyes and I'll kiss you 'cause with the birds I'll share  
>With the birds I'll share this lonely view<em>

-Red Hot Chili Peppers

* * *

><p>The sky was beginning its slow ascent from black to gray as we drove back into the city. Sakura was, once again, asleep. She'd started to drift off before we even left the cemetery, and I'd carried her piggy-back to the car and laid her down in the backseat. In the dark, her hand found my jacket, an extra one I'd left in the back. She pulled it up against her face and nuzzled into it. I still don't know whether she was awake enough to know she did it.<p>

At the time, the act just made me huff with confusion.

The drive home seemed a lot faster than the drive to the cemetery, and it wasn't until we got back into the city that I realized I was driving twenty miles over the speed limit. I hadn't even noticed- there had barely been any other cars on the road. And my brain was getting lost in itself. I tried not to acknowledge the places it kept returning: my dad, my brothers, Sakura… my suspicions. But there was one thing I naturally accepted, without any thought: Someone was after Sakura- or, more correctly, the Harunos. Whether it was my dad, my brother, or someone else, I knew she was in danger.

And that was when I decided, without noticing, that I would be the one to protect her.

* * *

><p>When we pulled into the parking garage, it was at least six in the morning. The cold lighting of the fluorescent bulbs overhead was diluted by the misty dawn light leaking in from the street. I opened the back door as quietly as possible, intending to carry Sakura back up to the apartment, but she stirred as soon as I touched her, sitting up dazedly. Squinting against the cool light, she asked scratchily, "Are we back already?"<p>

"What do you mean, already?" I chuckled, my voice sounding more tired than I felt. "That drive took at least two hours."

"Baby," she accused, smiling, as I pulled her out of the car. "Do you know how long train rides across Europe are?"

"Train rides are different. You can… walk around, and stuff."

"Fifty hours," she answered, ignoring me. I blew a low whistle.

"Of course," she continued, "It might feel like a long time just because your mom is piss drunk the whole time and you have to keep her in her seat."

My eyebrow lifted in irritation. "You're lucky to _have_ a mom," I replied coldly, and she looked me straight in the eyes. Without a hint of regret or apology in her voice, she said, "I don't."

After a long, hard moment, she sighed and looked at the floor, murmuring, "Never really did."

My mouth twitched into a frown, and I walked ahead of her, effectively ending the conversation.

The entire building was completely silent except for the jingling sound of my keys as I struggled with the lock to my apartment. I felt a little guilty about the fact that my hallway had such great acoustics- the sound seemed just as loud across the building as it was right next to us. When I finally got the damn thing open, I hurried Sakura in like I was worried we'd get lecture from a disgruntled neighbor. I kinda was.

As I closed the door behind me and the light from the hall was cut off, I caught Sakura's silhouette in the soft blue light, and for a split second I froze. She'd already stripped off her winter apparel, and to be honest, the pjs underneath were kinda skimpy- _low _cut cotton shorts, a spaghetti strap tank top that there wasn't much of. Legs that went on for days, despite the fact that she was such a shrimp. Her back was to me, which was probably a good thing because I couldn't help myself. I stared shamelessly.

She stretched her arms above her head with a soft moan, the flawless skin over her shoulder blades contracting, and walked to the bedroom, murmuring without turning around, "G'night, Sasuke."

The bedroom door closed, and it took me a moment to regain mental function. Damn, that girl was sexy. She was almost a safety hazard living in my apartment- if I kept getting caught off guard by moments like that, eventually I'd do something _really_ stupid.

I flopped face down onto the couch, sighed gruffly, and smacked my forehead, knowing exactly how much of an idiot I was.

I was startled by a sudden quick beep from somewhere inside the room. I looked up groggily, baffled as to where the sound came from, and a little red flash caught my eye from across the room. It was… the phone. Odd, since hardly anyone ever called this place. Everyone who knew the number knew I probably wouldn't answer it.

I stumbled over and picked it up, calling my voicemail and praying I still remembered the 4-digit pass code.

"You have… one… unheard message. First… unheard… message… sent… today… at… 4:41… a.m. From… 7-4-6… 2-3-3… 4-5-7-5."

My lungs seized and a chill rattled me from my scalp to the arches of my feet when I recognized the number. A seasoned voice that clearly belonged to a black woman began, "Mr. Sasuke Uchiha, I am calling on behalf of Hiro Uchiha…"

* * *

><p>Sakura sat up with a gasp when I threw open the bedroom door, shouting with a dread in my voice that I'd never heard before, "Sakura! We have to go!"<p>

She blinked, shut her slack jaw, and rushed to action.

We were out of there in a heartbeat, back to the car and on the road. Sakura was a bit freaked out by how freaked out I was, I could tell. Her eyes were wide as oceans, and they never left my profile. Her skin was pale, her lips were drawn into a tight line. She didn't ask a single question. Or maybe she just understood the seriousness of the situation.

When she caught sight of our destination, I saw the comprehension dawn in her eyes.

We beat the sunlight to the hospital. It wasn't until we were in the lobby, speaking to the nurse from the phone message, that it finally began to climb the walls of the building and creep across the floor to our shoes (all four of which, I later noticed, were mismatched). The nurse was on the phone, talking to someone and taking notes. I'll always remember that she was wearing tacky flower-patterned scrubs.

She seemed to me the slowest talker in the world. I tapped my foot and crossed my arms, pacing sporadically and waiting for her to _fucking_ finish. Sakura was much better under this pressure than I was- she stood patiently at the nurse's counter with a polite smile on her face, looking around at the glum surroundings like they were simply a photograph. I was relieved she'd remembered to wear my obscuring gray hat- a hospital was the most likely place for her to be recognized.

When she looked over at me, I saw her flinch with worry. She stepped quietly over to me and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. I was sure she could feel me shaking. I looked away, bothered, my fingers tapping the side of my arm over and over. Brushing the cotton of my shirt with her palm, she whispered, "Sasuke, it's okay. Calm down."

My eyes shot straight back to hers, demanding her words to be true. Her eyes returned the look just as fiercely, and I was taken aback by their sincerity. I wondered if she meant Hiro would be okay, or she wouldn't be found out. I wondered what I meant.

Our staring contest was broken by the nurse, who said in her civil, slightly bored voice, "How may I help you?"

Flinching at the sound and returning shakily to the counter, I said, "Yeah, hi. I'm the brother of Hiro Uchiha? I'm his only contact, I got a call this morning-"

"Of course," the nurse interrupted with a smile. "Let me make a phone call."

I got the sudden urge to scream, but I just nodded after a moment, my knuckles turning white over clenched fists, and stepped away. The nurse spoke quietly into the phone, her back turned to us. Sakura whispered gently, still the picture of composure, "You're your brother's only contact?"

I gave her a vexed glance, unable at that moment to comprehend why she thought that detail was important when my brother was in the _hospital_, for Christ's sake.

But I didn't get the chance to reply, because the nurse in purple scrubs was off the phone again. She said, "He's in room 402. You can go on up, he should wake up any time now."

I nodded, my breath still catching in my throat. I grabbed Sakura by the wrist and took a step toward the elevator, then stopped. Turning around, bracing my shoulders, I went back up to the nurse and asked, "This isn't… another suicide attem-"

"No, sir," she cut me off firmly, and the relief I felt shocked me. After a moment, I felt a tug on my hand, and I realized I was still holding Sakura's wrist. I caught her glance for a second- perfectly understanding, and sad. She tugged again, and I conceded to her unspoken request with a last nod to the nurse.

We stood outside his door for a moment. Sakura didn't expect me to stop- she reached for the doorknob, but was jerked back by my hold on her wrist. She turned to look at me, perplexed, but her gaze softened. Stepping back toward me, she pried her wrist from my grip, murmuring gently, "Sasuke, I know you're scared. Believe me, I know every cell in your body is itching to run. But this is something you can't avoid. So for your brother's sake and your own, _don't_."

My eyes moved reluctantly to hers. She finished in a whisper, "Just come with me."

She stepped toward the door, giving me time to let that sink in as she slowly, deliberately grasped the knob and turned. I felt a wave of dread climb up my throat, but I breathed it down and stepped into the room behind her.

As soon as I caught sight of Hiro, I forgot why I was hesitating and rushed over, gripping the metal bars of his hospital bed and staring. Oh god.

I very nearly started hyperventilating at his appearance. Both closed eyes were blackened and distended beyond recognition. His bottom lip was split, with a few electric blue stitches embedded in the flesh- I'd had enough experience to know that was done by a knife, not a fist. The bridge of his nose was swollen and bruised, with a little plastic reinforcement that told me it had been broken. Worst yet, his left ear… it was gone. The hole was covered by a thick application of gauze. The crown jewel, though, was his neck.

Stabilized by a brace and covered in some sort of ointment, I could only see bits of skin. But what I could see couldn't have been clearer: long, thin, dark purple bruises, in the shape of fingers. Someone had tried to strangle him.

I just lost it. Unable to process much, my only thought was of clearing my head. Without a word, I turned and fled the room. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard Sakura calling after me. I caught sight of the men's bathroom and went for it. No one was in there. Turning on the faucet, I tried to let the sound calm me, splashing some water in my face. It didn't work, of course. The door opened behind me, and Sakura came in. I froze, standing at the sink with my back to her.

She stepped gingerly closer, clearly trying not to provoke me. My hands clenched the edge of the sink so hard I thought I might break it.

Sakura said softly behind me, "Sasuke… It's okay. He's gonna be-"

That was the moment she touched me- she only put her hand lightly on my shoulder- and I flipped a bitch. I spun around and shoved her against the wall, towering over her and shouting, "Don't say that. Don't lie. He's not okay! He's never _been_ okay, how do you think _this_ is gonna help-"

"Sasuke!" she screamed, and I froze. Finally I realized: I had a hand wrapped around her throat. Her cheeks were tear stained and her chest was heaving, but it was her expression that did it- wounded, unrelenting. Breakable. But not scared.

Fingers shaking, almost disbelieving, I lifted them carefully away from her neck. I felt faint. What the hell was I _doing_? I leaned forward, my head falling in the crook of Sakura's shoulder, and I distinctly felt the contact of our skin touching. I moved my head closer, deliberately pushing myself against her. She let out the slightest gasp, and slowly, carefully, reached up to place light fingers on my neck. Together, we slid to the floor.

I could feel her pulse. She was intoxicating. Her skin was so close to mine, her scent, her lips…

"Sasuke," she whispered, quieter than I thought possible. I felt her breath against my neck, and I leaned back to look at her, a shiver passing down my spine. My resistance, at long last, hit zero.

I pitched forward with a sudden primal hunger and a startling lack of self-control. My lips caught hers in a rough, overpowering openmouthed kiss and she gasped under my lips. I felt her wanting to push me away, but I forced her mouth to mine, pulling and biting and refusing to stop. It may not have been what she wanted, but she wasn't acting like it. She let me pry her jaw open, let my tongue raid her mouth, let me bite her and bruise her and control her. Her lack of resistance was alarmingly titillating.

I kept pushed her back against the wall and pressing down harder, kept doing whatever the fuck I wanted, kept controlling her and restricting her like a marionette on a string, and she kept letting me- kept gasping under me.

It took a while for the switch to flip in my mind- the one telling me, _stop, stop, what are you doing, this is bad, stop it!_ I kept descending further and further from conscious thought, getting more and more lost in raw impulse, until I hit a critical point and, as if an alarm went off in my head, I opened my eyes and realized what I was doing.

I pulled my lips away from hers, and she let out a shuddering breath. I just watched her, eyes inches from mine, as I felt bewilderment and a dark shame falling over me. She closed her eyes tight for a moment, catching her breath. My heart pounded so hard I thought she could feel it in the hands that still held her jaw taut.

When she finally opened her eyes, they'd regained their fearsome blaze. They bore into mine, telling me how I should feel while revealing nothing of her own emotions. I finally let go of her, fearing even as I did so that there would be bruises under my grip. But I kept my face stone cold as I stood, offering Sakura a hand. She took it, which I took as a good sign. I couldn't tell if she was mad at me, or pitying me, or just as paralyzed as me.

She stood for a moment in front of me, looking at me as if debating something. Her face was serious and worried, and doubtful.

And then she raised her hand and slapped me across the face. It hurt. She looked at me, slightly stunned at her own action, as I held my cheek and hissed, "Ow! Fuck you!"

"Fuck _you!_" she tried to say back, but the declaration dissolved. I have to admit, it worked. The tension was successfully diffused.

But the moment was most certainly not forgotten.

* * *

><p>Hiro was awake now. His black eyes looked even worse when they were open (their color, Sakura noticed, was the same deep black as Sasuke's) and he could barely breathe. His hair was also a lot like Sasuke's, though shorter and wilder. Sakura watched, almost in awe, as the elder brother softly stroked the younger's hair, his head right up against the invalid's, sharing the pillow. Sasuke was muttering quietly in his brother's ear, though he never prompted him to speak. He knew that just being awake was painful.<p>

Watching the closeness of the brothers made Sakura woefully heartsick for her own.

Hiro listened quietly to Sasuke's voice, fiddling with the splints on his fingers, four of which were broken. Also broken, they'd found out, were three ribs.

They had him on heavy painkillers- not only that, but they had to keep him somewhere below awake but above asleep. When Sakura asked why, Sasuke replied without turning from his brother, "Breathing is ridiculously painful with broken ribs- so people with them usually take little breaths to keep from moving too much. It makes them extremely susceptible to pneumonia."

Eyes drifting back to Hiro, Sakura watched his chest. He was, in fact, taking satisfactorily deep breaths in his sleepy state.

Hiro's doctor had come in earlier and told them what happened, though it was pretty obvious from the get go: he'd been assaulted. Apparently, a bunch of thugs decided to drag him into a dark alley and start wailing on him with pocket knives and, disgustingly, a Louisville Slugger. Someone had found him bleeding to death in an alley by the East River in Queens, brought him to this hospital (way far away in Manhattan and the best hospital in the city), and then given him a blood transfusion before disappearing into the night.

When Sasuke asked the name of the mysterious hero who saved his brother, the doctor replied only, "That information is confidential."

"…Whatever," Sasuke had said to Sakura after the doctor left. "I'm more interested in finding the people who _did_ this."

Sakura shot him a wary glance. Unfortunately, she knew he meant what he said.

* * *

><p>Writer's Note: Heeeey! So I changed almost nothing about this chapter, nothing to worry about I think. Thanks for reading!<p> 


	8. Sail

_Maybe I should cry for help  
>Maybe I should kill myself<br>Blame it on my A.D.D. baby_

_Sail with me into the dark_

- AWOLNATION

* * *

><p>Hiro loved closeness- it was the most endearing thing about him. He was quiet and sad and stoic, but he loved <em>everyone<em>. All he ever wanted, especially at times like this, was quiet physical contact. So Sakura and I sat at his sides, linking arms with him on the overcrowded hospital bed, and sat watching hypnotizing images flicker past on the muted TV overhead.

And _everyone_ loved Hiro. For example, at 8:45 that morning the hospital door flew open with a bang and an outraged blonde blur hurtled into the room with wide eyes and heaving breaths. Gripping the metal bar on my side of the bed, he asked between gasps, "What… the fuck… happened…?"

"Hiro tried to pinch some old bag's purse. He's kind of regretting it now," I replied sarcastically, without any hint of a grin.

Naruto gave me a peeved glare, then turned to Sakura with a questioning glance. She answered quietly, trying to say it as calmingly as possible, "He was found in an alley in Queens …someone cornered him with a baseball bat."

"It was more than one person," I cut in darkly. "They got him with a pocketknife too."

Naruto's pale face turned cold. "…Why?" he whispered, his gaze resting on Hiro's closed eyes.

The fact that he asked that pissed me off. I spat back in a whisper, "Why do you _think?_"

He recoiled slightly, taken aback. After a long sigh, he asked, "Do you know when he's gonna wake up?"

I shrugged irately, and Naruto's mouth twitched into a frown. "Could you just- call me? When he does?"

I grunted, and then I felt the cold glare of Sakura's eyes on my profile before she said softly to Naruto, "Of course we will."

His gaze flickered to hers for a moment, and I didn't miss the silent communication between them. It pissed the hell out of me.

Naruto turned and left the hospital room in a rush. I turned to look at Sakura across Hiro's sleeping form, and caught her watching the open door with a bothered expression. With a little nod to herself, she stood gingerly from the bed and made for the door.

My huff of, "Where the hell are you going?" was lost in her retreating footsteps and her own shout of, "Naruto, wait up!"

* * *

><p>Sakura caught Naruto by the sleeve as he was about to step onto the elevator. He whipped around, startled, and she stared up at him with wide eyes for a moment, a bit stunned when she realized she hadn't really thought through what she was going to say.<p>

"Um… Do- do you- what is-" she huffed, exasperated by her inability to form a sentence. With a sharp huff, she finally managed, "Why was Hiro attacked?"

Naruto just blinked. She pressed, "Come on, just tell me. Give me a hint. It has something to do with their dad, doesn't it? Or their older brother? Or something about their mom's death?"

The blonde blinked again, bewildered, and he had to stifle a laugh. "What- of course not!"

"Then _what?!_" she pleaded, gripping the edges of his coat in her fists.

"Hiro's _gay_," he replied, with overwhelmed wide eyes. Sakura blinked. Leaning away slightly, she asked in a small voice, "…What?"

"He's gay, that's why this happened. The same thing's happened before. Since he's kind of a celebrity, _everyone_ found out when he came out. It's an understatement to say a few of his fans were less than pleased."

The rosette blinked and swallowed, stepping away from the blonde. Her skin had gone horribly pale. She leaned against the hallway wall, closing her eyes. After a moment, Naruto sighed and said, "Look, I- …I have work, I gotta go."

He stepped into the elevator, but the closing doors were suddenly halted when Sakura grabbed them, the ferocity in her eyes returned. "Just one more thing: why is Sasuke Hiro's only contact?"

Naruto frowned and sighed, "It's a long story."

"No way, Naruto. You're not getting off that easy. _Tell me what you know_."

Their eyes fought a visual tug-of-war for a moment before he huffed and yanked her into the elevator.

As the doors closed with a ding, he began in a rushed voice, "Sasuke realized Hiro wouldn't be safe if he stayed anywhere near their dad. Because after their mom's murder, Fugaku kind of fell off the deep end. He became totally obsessed with finding her killer, and he started to accuse some dangerous people. Well, it wasn't just that- he tried to get _rid_ of some dangerous people. I think Sasuke wanted to get Hiro out of all that before- you know, before the shit hit the fan. Of course, that was right before Itachi tried to kill their dad and… all those guys from his precinct," he finished lamely.

The elevator button dinged and the doors opened, and Naruto shot out of there with a last, "I told you nothing, you hear?!"

He left Sakura standing with a dubious frown on her face.

* * *

><p>It was the first time Sakura had ever seen Sasuke genuinely asleep. She'd trudged slowly and bitterly back up to Hiro's hospital room, and walked in to the sight of Sasuke laying beside his brother on the hospital bed, his head beside Hiro's on the pillow. He looked so peaceful- the troubled worry lines between his eyebrows and the fear pulling on his posture had been washed away, replaced by a quiet contentment. His breaths were heavy, and his hunched back moved in syncopation with Hiro's chest.<p>

The sight of them made Sakura's heart ache for her own brothers.

Sakura rarely troubled herself over regretting choices she'd made. But one in particular had been creeping up whenever she let her mind wander: she should have contacted Izaya by now. She hadn't seen hide or hair of her brother since she escaped the hospital, and by now he must have had a legitimate fear that she was in trouble, or worse.

She decided to let her brother know she was alive. Turning from the sleeping Uchihas, Sakura threw on the big leather jacket she'd brought with her (Sasuke's) and started for the door, but stopped and turned around when she thought of something. Digging in her pockets for a pen, she instead found a Sharpie and uncapped it.

Sasuke's left hand was resting on Hiro's shoulder. Leaning carefully over his sleeping form to reach it without touching the rest of him, Sakura wrote on the back of his hand, _Off to the races- back soon._ She was amazed that Sasuke didn't stir.

She knew it was because of Hiro. Just having him there, no matter how grim the circumstance, had calmed Sasuke down enough to actually sleep. Sakura sighed when she realized her presence didn't have the same healing effect- Sasuke never slept like that around _her_. The thought made her strangely blue, and she remembered why she was leaving in the first place.

* * *

><p>If there was one thing Sakura could say bothered her about her brother, it was that he refused to carry a cell phone. After Hatori's death, Izaya had decided to cut all his familial ties (with the exception of his little sister), and a large part of his success was due to the fact that he left them no way to contact him. As such, Sakura could only speculate as to where he might be.<p>

Fortunately, she knew her brother rather well. She hadn't been lying when she said she was going to the races.

Growing up, Sakura had always been the neglected child, and Hatori had been the beloved favorite. As such, Izaya had taken it upon himself to be the family rebel. He'd been trying to piss off Shukketsu since his middle school days- plus, he was just a ridiculous goofball. On his fifteenth birthday (which their parents had conveniently forgot), he performed his best prank to date: He threw a massive chicken race in the family's Staten Island penthouse.

That day, Izaya learned two things he would never forget: his dad had a backhand like a hammer, and chicken gambling was astoundingly profitable.

He'd been throwing underground chicken races ever since.

This week, the races were in eastern Manhattan. Sakura could tell because it was a particularly cold day, and Izaya's best location for cold days was a boarded-up superstore down that branch of the city. When all the rich kids had a snow day, they wanted to spend their fortunes betting on the speed and stamina of chickens.

As expected, Izaya was there. It was incredibly loud in the wide, empty room- with a massive crowd cheering and the ruckus of balking, flustered chickens attempting to race, Sakura could barely hear her own shouts of, "Izaya!" over the pandemonium. Fortunately, he was easy to spot. Being unusually tall and unusually handsome, as well as having unusually mismatched eyes, made him a walking target even among the crowd of beautiful young socialites.

He was taking handfuls of bills out of people's waving hands with a wide grin on his face, thumbing through the papers and inspecting them, clearly a richer man than he'd been five minutes previously.

He spotted the pink-haired shrimp almost immediately- that distinctive hair was pretty hard to miss, especially since he knew it so well. Sakura frowned nervously when she saw the color drain from his face and his easy smile disappear completely. He gave her a long shake of the head, and gestured sternly behind him with his thumb. Clearly, she was meant to follow.

He led her covertly to what had probably once been a manager's office- though it was devoid of furniture or appliances, it still echoed with a middle management vibe. Sakura braced herself as she entered the room, squeezing her eyes shut tight and expecting a heated lecture. Instead, she felt only warm arms around her shoulders. She gasped slightly and hugged her brother back, whispering into his coat, "I'm _so_ sorry, Iz."

He took her firmly by the shoulders and held her at arm's length, leaning over so his eyes bore directly into hers, and asked with more severity than she thought he had in him, "_Where were you?_"

Finally, this close to him, Sakura caught clear sight of his face- and she realized something was wrong with it. He was a wreck. He looked like he'd taken brass knuckles to the face. His eyes and lips were bruised and swollen, there were short, crude gashes on his cheekbones and his nose, and she noticed his right hand shook painfully from its place on her shoulder.

Instead of answering Izaya's question, she looked at him worriedly and asked, "What the hell happened to you?"

He jerked back instinctually, and with an injured face he let go of her arms and, holding his right hand tenderly in his left, said, "Nothing... Jesus, way to change the subject. Answer my question."

"Answer mine," she replied, in the perfect snooty little-sister voice. The siblings exchanged a long glare. As always, Izaya was the first to give in. Rolling his eyes with a huff, he replied, "I was in Queens last night, and I pulled some thugs off a kid in an alley."

Sakura just blinked. "What?" she asked. She felt the beginnings of giddiness bubbling up in her chest.

"These hicks were wailing on him with a baseball bat and a Swiss Army knife. He was beat to hell. What the hell was I supposed to do, walk away?"

She squeaked. The desire to scream and squeal like a fangirl was almost overwhelming.

Seeing that she was about to explode, Izaya gave her a suspicious look and asked bitingly, "What?"

Oh, she just couldn't contain it. "THAT'S HIRO! So you're the mysterious savior? Holy shit, the world is so small. This is incredible."

Izaya stepped back, shocked. "How the _fuck_ do you know that?"

"That's Sasuke's brother! Jesus, I can't _stand_ it! You're the best brother _ever_! I love you, I love you, I love you!"

With that she threw her arms around his ribcage and squealed some more.

"I love you, too. Now shut up and answer my question."

"He's gay, you know," she said eagerly, looking up at Izaya with those big blue eyes and once again deflecting his inquiry. His eyebrow twitched skeptically, a habit of both her brothers' which Sakura had long since come to fear (and had forgotten how much she'd missed). He asked with an expression straddling annoyance and doubt, "_And?_"

"Um, you _have_ to see him again! Do you not understand how ridiculously perfect this whole situation is?!"

Izaya scoffed. "How do you even know he's gay?"

She laughed like she thought he was joking, until she realized he wasn't. "Wow, seriously? …Um, having a flaming brother kind of gives me flawless gay-dar."

Izaya huffed, affronted. "He was unconscious when you saw him!"

"Yeah, well, Naruto also told me. But I definitely had a hunch."

"Who the _hell_ is Naruto? And Sasuke, for that matter?"

Sakura froze, realizing she'd said too much. Shit, the gig was up. Now she'd have to spill the beans.

* * *

><p>I hadn't had such a vivid, senseless dream in months. Sakura, as per the usual, was the main fucking event. She kept frowning and saying, "Sasuke, just tell me. Come on, just tell me already."<p>

My family was there- all of them. They stood around my shoulders, murmuring in my ears so Sakura wouldn't hear. Hiro kept goading me on, saying, "Come on, what's the big deal? I don't mind if you tell her. Go ahead, do it."

My dad and Itachi were wrestling behind me. Dad kept trying to grab me, shouting, "Don't tell her, Sasuke! She's the devil. If you tell her, you're no son of mine!" while Itachi tried to restrain him, saying, "Sasuke, he's crazy! Don't listen to him! Don't do anything he says!"

In my dream, I wasn't mad at any of them. I turned to Itachi and asked, completely without emotion, "But, why should I trust you? You're in jail."

"Because I'm right. You know I'm right!"

Behind me, I heard Sakura start to shout, "Just tell me already!"

I gave her a quick look over my shoulder and turned back to my family, asking, "Well, why? What does she have to do with it?"

I felt a hand on my left shoulder, and I turned to see my mother standing there with a sad smile on her face. She spoke in barely a whisper, but I could hear her words far better than the distant shouts of the others. She said sadly, "It's about me, Sasuke. It's all about me. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" I whispered back, but she replied only, "The key. Remember? Oh, son. Do you know who she is?"

I gave her a confused look and shook my head, asking, "What key?"

Then, suddenly, my dad threw Itachi off him, and went after Sakura. He had a fury in his eyes like I'd never seen as he took her throat in his hands and started to squeeze. Sakura clawed at his hands, looking over at me and gasping, "Sasuke, tell me what's going on! Why is this happening?!"

I started for her, but I was pulled back by mom, who took my face in both hands, her grave eyes piercing mine, and said, "Sasuke, you can't let him touch her."

I blinked. "Why not?"

"Because it's about me!" she screamed, suddenly furious. I heard Sakura scream my name behind me, but my mom kept me glued to the spot. "Sasuke," she whispered, "It's about me. _It's about me._ Don't you understand?!"

"No!" I shouted back apologetically, pulling her hands off me and running for Sakura.

But the scene suddenly changed, and I was immersed in cold, deep water. I was completely alone. Searching around for _something_ besides the endless depths, I shouted, "SAKURA!"

The sound echoed in the endless water. It wasn't until I looked down, into the chilling darkness, that I saw her: Sakura, falling farther and farther away from me. Her eyes were closed, and she was descending fast.

I dashed after her, and the looming darkness threatened to blind me. It was completely black by the time I reached her- I touched her fingertips, and then I grabbed her wrist. It was thinner than I remembered. I pulled her body toward me in the darkness, trying to propel us both toward the surface. But I felt her tug lightly on my collar, and I understood the message in her gesture perfectly: Let me drown.

I shook my head frantically and pulled her close. She hung weakly in my arms as I whispered shakily, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"But you did," she replied weakly. "Now we can't go back… we're too far gone."

"I know," I whispered. "I know."

"Then tell me."

I was jolted awake by a sudden shove and the whispered words, "Sasuke. Wake up, son."

* * *

><p>Writer's Note: So right now you're probably thinking, "what the fuck?" Well... I have nothing to say about Sasuke's crazy dream, except that the meaning of its contents will be revealed later, so just have patience, dear readers. Love you all, please review!<p> 


	9. Keen On Boys

_Already dead  
>So kill my head<br>There's a sun in his eyes  
>It won't go away<br>I'm already dead  
>What is it I can't get over?<em>

_He would never sleep  
>Said I didn't mind it at all<br>Made me feel quite cheap  
>Looking back on it all<em>

_Then there was this kiss  
>He said that he couldn't resist<br>And was I aware what I missed?_

_That night I slept on his couch  
>With my back turned to the wall<br>Nothing assumed, but you know?  
>You know...<em>

_In the morning we said nothing at all  
>All I could think of was this<br>He said that he couldn't resist  
>And was I aware what I missed?<em>

-The Radio Dept.

* * *

><p>I hadn't spoken to my father in over a year, not since Itachi's arrest. That's not to say I sided with my brother- he'd tried to kill me, for Christ's sake- but I knew there was more to it than the police (meaning Dad) had said. Itachi hadn't just had a sudden homicidal breakdown. I knew he wasn't innocent, but I also knew he must have had a reason for doing what he did. Which had left me for months with one burning question: What was my dad hiding?<p>

And now here he was, in my brother's hospital room.

"Dad," I gasped, jerking back as soon as my bleary eyes focused in on the wearied features of his face. I stood up in sudden alarm and asked, abruptly wide awake, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see my son, Sasuke." His voice was as steely as I remembered.

He took a step toward Hiro's bed, but I instinctively sidestepped to stand between them. I hissed without a trace of trepidation, "I think you should leave, Dad."

He took a deep breath and stood at his full height- exactly the same as mine- and said in a menacing calm, "Move aside, Sasuke."

I only frowned at him further, and I could see the panic in his otherwise motionless eyes. This was always how it went- my father would give me an order, and when I refused, he got mad because he didn't know how else to get his way.

"_Sasuke_," he murmured through clenched teeth. "_Move._"

"No," I answered firmly. I couldn't help it- something about my deep-running hatred for the man gave me the instinctual urge to fuck with him every time I saw him.

"_Sasuke_," he spat, still holding on to control of his temper. I just stared, my glare as chilling as his. Then we both heard a quiet voice murmur, "Dad?"

I turned to see Hiro blinking the sleep from his bruised eyes. In that moment of distraction, my dad shoved me aside and leaned down closer to Hiro's face.

"Hi, Son… How are you?" he asked, without much conviction. Hiro gave me a pleading glance over Fugaku's shoulder, and I said coldly, "Talking hurts him, Dad. He has broken ribs."

Hiro's eyes never left mine. The message in them, though hidden for fear of Dad understanding, was clear: _Please_ make him leave.

Ever since my brothers and I were little kids, we'd each had our own unique reaction to Fugaku. For me, it was hatred. He treated us more like a sergeant than a father, giving us all orders and no affection. His effort to secure supremacy over us, and Mom to nearly the same degree, dictated the atmosphere of the entire family. I saw how his insecurity affected everyone in the house, and it made me sick.

For Itachi, it was something I can only assume was pity. He had an inborn and infallible sense of supremacy over the man that I will never understand- he always did what Fugaku asked of him, but did so in a way that made it clear he was only doing it to humor him.

Hiro was the only one on whom Dad's authority ploys actually worked. By the time I'd estranged myself from the family, it had started giving Hiro panic attacks just to be in the same room with him. Dad's whole time as a parent was spent doing a serious number on Hiro's confidence, especially after Itachi and I grew up and left. Though he would never say something so unforgiving, it was clear to me that Hiro never wanted to see him again.

"Dad," I exclaimed coldly, pulling him harshly away from Hiro by the shoulder. "Get out."

"Don't talk to me that way Sasuke, I am your father."

"Since _when_?!" I shouted, long-ingrained habits taking over. "You've never been anything but a burden to us!"

"What do you _want_ from me, Sasuke?!" he shouted back, in a way that almost sounded like pleading.

"I want you to get the fuck out of our lives!" I replied in a sudden rage. We all knew he'd been a terrible father- what _he_ wanted was irrelevant.

I closed my eyes and breathed a deep huff. Eventually I said calmly, though darkly, "No. Actually, I want you to tell me why Itachi _really_ tried to kill you."

Fugaku blinked, the color draining from his face. Rather than answering, he frowned deeply and said, "I'm leaving. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?!" I shouted at his retreating back, but he was out the door before my sentence was finished.

* * *

><p>Little did Sasuke know, Sakura had heard the entire conversation. She'd been standing just outside the door since before they started shouting- Fugaku literally passed two feet in front of her when he left the room, flapping trench coat in tow. She had two coffees in her hand- one was meant for Sasuke, but she made a split second decision: making sure Sasuke's back was turned before she passed the open door, she took off after Fugaku.<p>

She reached the harried sheriff down the hall, around a corner.

"Mr. Uchiha!" she chimed congenially. He turned around and she rushed up to him, handing him Sasuke's coffee. He looked stressed and mystified, but he took it and sipped. "Straight black," he muttered, and Sakura nodded with a smile. "Like father, like son."

He gave her a sideways glance and asked, his voice masked in simple curiosity, "You're a… friend, of Sasuke's?"

She nodded with a smile, Sasuke's gray hat flopping forward slightly on her head.

"Do I know you?" he asked, his eyes slit and his mouth turned down in a slight frown. "No sir, but your reputation precedes you," she smiled, and he blinked. "My reputation?" he asked dubiously, and she nodded. "Of course. As sheriff, Sheriff."

"Oh… Of course."

Sakura gave herself a hidden smile.

"Have you met Sasuke's dealer?" she asked sweetly, a genius at making crucial conversation sound like chatting.

Fugaku's eyes widened, appalled, and Sakura laughed, "His _art_ dealer, I mean."

It took him a second to take that in and calm down. "Uh, no. No, I haven't."

Sakura beamed, lying through her teeth, "I am she! Karin," she offered, her smile blinding, as she held out her hand. Fugaku hesitantly shook it and said as he started to shuffle off, "I should be going…"

"Do you know a Mr. Chang, Sheriff?" Sakura asked his retreating back. Her words stopped him in his tracks. Turning back to face her, he asked with a definite air of threat, "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, Sasuke introduced me to him. I just wondered if you two were acquainted- Sasuke said you all used to be neighbors."

"Oh… right. Yeah. I remember him now." He gave a deep frown that pulled the wrinkles around his mouth down. It looked like it took effort. Sakura was about to prod again when he spoke over her, "I really should be going," and he stalked off.

Well that answered _that_ question. Now all Sakura wanted to know was, what the hell was the _real_ connection between Fugaku and Chang?

* * *

><p>Sakura was shocked that she remembered where that little apartment was- she even got the floor right. It only took two door knocks to find the right one- barely a moment after she knocked, the small Asian man opened the door smiling. When he recognized her he adopted a worried expression, but ushered her in without hesitation.<p>

"Come in, come in! What can I do for you?"

She smiled warmly and said, "Well first, I… wanted to thank you." They both looked down at her scabbed leg and Chang asked, "You took out the stitches?"

"Sasuke did," she shrugged. "Anyway, I also wanted to, um, see if there was any way I could make it up to you. And… I wanted to ask you something."

"Of course! But my dear, you needn't pay me back. I owe Sasuke a lot more than a few stitches."

"Actually, that's kind of what I wanted to ask you about."

Chang blinked in surprise, and Sakura asked softly, "What is it you owe Sasuke for? What did he do for you?"

He gave her a quick sad smile. "I'm afraid that's something for Sasuke to tell you himself."

Sakura sighed in distress and said, "That's the same answer I've gotten from everyone. _Please_, Doctor Chang. Just give me _something_." It felt odd to Sakura to be so vulnerably truthful.

The doctor eventually sighed. "Would you like a pot of tea?"

She shook her head, but he said, "Come sit down. I'll brew you some Jasmine."

They sat at a little three-chair table in the kitchen with steaming mugs in front of them. Sakura had zoned out in the silence, so Chang's sudden talking made her jump a bit when he said, "Sakura- have you ever seen something that you knew deep down was just _wrong_? So wrong that it shouldn't be allowed, but it was?"

She blinked, shrugging, "Of course."

"And would you do what you had to to fix it?"

The girl frowned and repeated, "Of… course. Why-"

"Have you ever heard Sasuke mention the Akatsuki?"

Her keen eyes met his sad ones, and she shook her head. "What is that?"

Chang hesitated, then continued, "It's not a _what_ so much as a _who_. But I'm afraid telling you anymore than that might be… dangerous."

Sakura frowned at him, infuriated by how much people refused to tell her. "Dangerous how?

He blinked. "…I can't remember."

"…What? No!" she shouted quickly, "You _have_ to remember! _Please!_"

Fucking dementia. When silence had been reestablished, Chang said quietly, "You know who you should ask about this?"

Her face twitched. "Say Sasuke and I'll scream."

* * *

><p>I was at the apartment. The damn doctors made me leave Hiro, spouting some bullshit about 'visiting hours'. I guess it <em>was <em>after midnight, but still.

When I got too agitated for sitting around and watching TV, I stomped into the kitchen and started washing all the dirty dishes. Damn, cleaning had been so much easier when there was only one person's mess.

One of Sakura's addictions was Eggo waffles and maple syrup. It was practically the only thing she ate when I wasn't forcing her to down some fucking protein- accordingly, the vast majority of dishes were the remains of this. Which sucked, because she used so much damn syrup that scrubbing them off wasn't doing anything. I was forced to stand there watching the tap water slowly drag the syrup off, which is less interesting than watching grass grow. That got me fucking mad at her.

So basically, it was a terrible moment for her to show up.

When she came in the door I stomped into the living room, shouting and brandishing a syrupy plate in each hand, and when she started to laugh I shouted, "It's not fucking funny."

Her smile fell to a hard frown, and she stepped gingerly forward, seizing one of the plates from me with a bewildered glare. She gripped it for a moment and stared at her feet, and I noticed her knuckles were white around the edge of the plate. I rolled my eyes and huffed, "_What_?"

Then she looked me straight in the eye and, in a cold, quiet voice, asked me a question that left me momentarily paralyzed: "Who are the Akatsuki?"

My outward rage died away. For a moment I felt only, oddly, relief- and then a cold loathing set in. I took a calming breath before answering through my teeth, "Sakura, I'm only going to say this once. _Stop asking_."

She blinked, wavering, and I turned back toward the kitchen.

An instant later, something white and porcelain sailed past my ear and shattered with a crash against the far wall, leaving dust on the painting behind it. That sound was followed closely by the impressive screaming behind me.

"Fuck you, Sasuke! I am getting SO SICK of this. I don't understand why you keep trying to push me away-"

"Why do you want to know?!" I raged back, brandishing my plate at her from across the room. "Why can't you just keep your fucking nose out of it?!"

"I just want the truth!" she spat back, livid, only spurring my fury on.

"What makes you think you _deserve_ the truth?! I don't owe you a fucking thing!"

"_What_?! It's not about-"

"You don't deserve to _know_ me, Sakura! Fuck you! You may be manipulating the shit out of me, but that does _not_ give you the right to know me!"

"Manipulating?!" she roared. "Sorry if that's what it looks like when I fall in love with someone!"

"Don't," I cut back immediately. "Don't you fucking dare."

A cold silence followed.

Sakura shuddered, her lip quivering slightly, and she said weakly, "I'm- I'm in love with you."

"FUCK YOU!" I raged, and hurled the plate in my hand past her, where it crashed against the front door. "You don't get to just decide this BULLSHIT! What the hell do you want from me?!"

"The _truth!_" she shouted back, on the verge of tears.

"The truth?" I asked with a sadistic laugh, marching toward her until she was stuck between me and the front door, and I hissed, "Then why don't you _stop lying_?"

She glared at me through stony, teary eyes, and I glared back. Then she leaned forward, whispering harshly, "Then stop lying to _yourself_."

And then she kissed me.  
>And I let her.<p>

* * *

><p>Shit, shit, shit. My mind was blank except for that. I had her pressed against the wall. Shit, shit, shit. I was biting her neck and her hands were tangled in my hair. Shit, shit, shit. My hands were edging under the hem of her silky shirt, and my tongue was sweeping in her mouth. Shit, shit, shit.<p>

I didn't even notice she did it, but she pulled me by the collar of my shirt, lips still glued to mine, into the bedroom, and swung the door closed behind us with a swift kick. She pulled me down to the bed on top of her, and by then my mind had stopped saying shit, shit, shit. It had just stopped thinking altogether.

It didn't take me long to get her shirt off- once I'm on automatic, there's not really much I can do to stop it. Then again, Sakura didn't seem to mind. She shivered under my splayed fingers as I stroked the skin from her hips to the bottom of her bright pink bra, but she pulled my lips to hers and reached to pull off my shirt. We sure weren't wasting time.

She bucked her hips against mine, and my breath hitched from the sudden urge that tore through my body. With a growl I couldn't control, my ground my hips against hers and my lips found her neck with a sudden possessiveness. I was sure my harsh grip on her was too much, but I couldn't stop myself and she just pulled me closer. My fingers begged with the hem of her jeans, gripping and pulling as she wrapped her long legs around me. Finally I remembered how to undo a fucking button, and off came the pants. Somehow in the struggle she got mine off too- I have literally no memory of that.

Then it was skin on skin. I kissed her insistently on the lips, the neck, making my way down her breasts and her ribs, and her breathing went heavy as my hand trailed down her stomach and below the hemline of her panties.

She was sighing, _moaning,_ against my touch, and that just made me want her more. She slew her arms around my shoulders, gradually digging her fingernails into my back as I brought her closer and closer to bright white. I'm such a masochist, I didn't give a shit.

I heard her let out a ragged sigh, and she whispered weakly, "Sasuke- ah- I… love… nh! Want you… in… me…"

If there were ever more titillating words, I wouldn't know. They sure as fuck worked on me.

I leaned away slightly, kissing the soft, _soft_ skin below her navel as I gently pulled her panties off her skinny legs. Even at that moment, when my mind was so far gone, a quick jolt of worry passed through me when I realized how bone-thin she still was.

That thought left me the instant she took me by the shoulders and pulled me down on top of her. My mouth fell to hers, and the very French kiss that followed was hotter and heavier than I'd been prepared for. My urgency only intensified.

She was even more impatient than I was- her breath was ragged and uneven, and she pulled on my skin like nails on a chalkboard as our tongues collided. Then I got myself in position, pushed in and made her breath catch, and then I was inside her. That realization was the last coherent thought I had.

I bit her neck as I leaned into her, and she gave a sudden start that sent me shivering.

"Sakura…" I managed, but she ground her hips against mine, effectively silencing me with a harsh groan. She'd reduced me to a fucking animal. I started to rock against her, burying my head in the nook of her shoulder and shielding her body with my back. And she just clung to me, trusting me entirely.

We found a good rhythm, and she lifted her hips to meet my thrusts. I could hear her gasps and moans at my ear, and the sounds only made me go faster until I hit something in her that made her writhe and scream.

She clung weakly to my shoulders, unable to help the cry that broke from her throat when everything went white. I don't think she even noticed that I sank my teeth into her shoulder when I came.

My coherent thoughts came back around the time I fell beside Sakura under the sheets in a mess of bliss. Eventually, when my heart rate had slowed up, I turned to look at her, and found those unbelievable eyes inches from my own, glowing with a warm smile that just barely reached her lips.

"Sakura," I whispered, and she blinked in a nod. "…I lov-"

Then the bedroom door was thrown open with a sudden BANG!

* * *

><p>Writer's Note: Yay! They did it! (please review, my lovely readers!) Also, this song Keen On Boys was the inspiration for this whole story- if you don't give it a listen you're missing out. ciao!<p> 


	10. My Own Worst Enemy

questions you should be asking yourself right about now:

-what is it Sasuke doesn't want Sakura to know about his past?

-what does that secret have to do with Sakura and/or the Harunos?

-what does it have to do with his mom's death, or Itachi's incarceration?

-what does Fugaku have against Sakura?

-why was Sakura in the Hudson, and who put her there?

-what does she remember about it?

-who killed Sakura's brother, and why?

-what does Karin have to do with anything?

-what does Chang owe Sasuke for (and what is the significance of it)?

-who is the 'they' Sasuke thinks are involved in Sakura's hospitalization?

-who is 'the akatsuki', and how do they fit into all of this?

* * *

><p><em>Can we forget about the things I said when I was drunk?<br>I didn't mean to call you that...  
>I can't remember what was said or what you threw at me<br>Please tell me, please tell me why  
>My car is in the front lawn<br>And I'm sleeping with my clothes on  
>I came in through the window last night and you're gone<br>Gone_

_-_ Lit

* * *

><p>If there had been one thing I wasn't expecting, it was what came next. The door was thrown open, revealing three cackling, drunk girls stumbling into the room with a cheer of, "Sasuke!"<p>

For that split second, I was just stunned. Then I got pissed.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?!" I shouted, sitting up and hurling a pillow at them, trying to close the door in their faces. They just keeled over laughing when it hit them, and eventually the brunette slurred excitedly, "Oh my god! Sasuke, who is _this_?"

She pointed at Sakura with a straying finger, and I looked over. Sakura was holding the sheets up to cover her naked body, wide eyes stunned and a shocked grimace tickling her lips. She looked pale. Seeing this made my eye twitch.

"Get the FUCK OUT!" I shouted, to no effect. The girls had already turned their flighty attention to the celebrity at my right.

"No way. Wait. Are you Sakura Haruno?" the blonde asked exaggeratedly, her jaw dropping.

"GET OUT!" I shouted again, and somehow this time they heard me. "Okay, okay! We'll just go find your vodka stash then," the brunette waved him off, sauntering out and closing the door after the other two.

It took Sakura a minute to find words. "Uh… who…?" she asked quietly, not angrily, and I looked at her darkly.

"Just some brainless old friends," I huffed, getting out of bed and grabbing my clothes. I tried to think Sakura wasn't watching me dress- but it was a bit late for that, I realized- we'd literally _just_ had sex. Like, two minutes ago.

I left the room pulling up my pants, making sure the door clicked securely shut behind me. Sakura didn't need to be part of this.

The girls were stumbling around in the kitchen, and I could hear the low hum of the open freezer. When they saw me I slammed it shut, and they all snapped to attention. "What the hell are you guys doing here?" I whispered hoarsely, "It's after midnight!"

"Oh come on, Sasuke. We all know you don't sleep-"

"Sasuke, was that Sakura Haruno?" the raven-haired girl spoke for the first time. I sighed heavily. Closing my eyes and frowning, I nodded, and the kitchen burst into squeals.

"Naruto _said_ she was here, but we didn't think you'd actually get in her _pants!_" the brunette cackled, slapping her knee.

"Shut up! And get the hell out of my apartment!"

"Not so fast, Uchiha," slurred the blonde. "We're here to celebrate, and we're not leaving until you and that hottie in there have a drink with us!"

"What are you celebrating?" a quiet voice asked from behind me, and I whipped around. There she stood, and for a moment I was speechless. I was devastated by the sadness I saw in her eyes. I stared at her, willing her to look at me, to understand what I was feeling- and she glanced away.

The drunken gaggle was silent. I stuttered, realizing I didn't have words for her, until the brunette cut me off, "Well, we just signed the lease on a new apartment. Two floors down!" she shouted, and the girls started cheering again.

I blinked, barely even taking in the statement as I watched Sakura.

Her face smiled softly, calmly- a relieving contrast to the shrieking- and she said quietly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, "Congratulations! That's great..."

I blinked, frowning. It threw me how upset she looked. How fragile. Was she upset with me? Was she regretting what we did? What did I do wrong? _What the fuck is wrong with me?_

"Exactly!" the brunette spouted, "That's why you should have a drink with us!"

"_Tenten!_" I hissed, glaring. It was colder than I intended, but it was truthful. I wanted them gone- I wanted the whole world gone. Just to be alone with Sakura.

"Well fuck you too, friend," said the blonde, but she understood. "Hey, let's go call the guys, and ditch these damp rags!" she cheered to the others, and she sprinted from the room, followed eagerly by Tenten. Hinata stayed behind for a moment, smiling at Sakura, before she waved and ran after the others. The front door slammed closed, and an absolute silence followed.

I couldn't look away from Sakura's eyes, and I felt her struggling to stay standing. She turned slowly away, her shoulders heavy with gloom.

I took a step forward, grabbing her shoulder with a low, "Sakura…"

She stopped, and so did I. But I wouldn't let go.

"Listen- Tenten and Temari are just stupid, they were drunk-"

"They seem nice," she whispered, her voice broken. I frowned more deeply, disturbed by the way she shook. "Hey," I murmured, pulling her toward me. "What's wrong?"

My tone exposed more of my worry than I'd wanted. She shook her head, her eyes unable to meet mine, and whispered "I'm- I'm sorry, Sasuke."

My limbs went numb. I let go of her shoulder, glowering, and exhaled. I was… angry.

Scoffing, I brushed past her with a bitter gaze, walked into the living room and toward the door. I knew she was afraid I would leave- she didn't gasp, she didn't sigh, she didn't say a word, but I knew she didn't want me to go.

I decided not to when I saw the smashed bits of plate on the floor. Huffing, I stooped to pick them up, and felt Sakura come closer. She watched me with an ashamed gaze, inhaling sharply when I walked past her without any acknowledgement.

"Sasuke… don't be angry-"

"Don't be sorry."

She was silent. "I- … I know you didn't-"

"You don't know anything," I hissed, still evading her eyes as I passed her to get the other plate.

"…Maybe I should go," she whispered, starting for the door. Again, I caught her by the shoulder, and felt her tense at my grip. She turned slowly around, withering under my cold glare.

"Don't look at me like that, Sasuke."

"Tell me what's wrong."

Another long silence followed.

"I'm exactly like my father."

I only frowned.

"I _have_ been manipulating you," she whispered, and I flinched. What?

"I'm not a nice person. I'm not fair… you deserve better."

I could only scowl and whisper, "Why?"

She closed her eyes and a tear fell, and she replied, "Because I want to be with you."

I scowled, completely taken aback. She continued, "I forced myself into your life. I made you help me, I made you trust me, I made you want me… But you don't even _like_ me."

My eyes narrowed. "…No. I don't… I'm sick of you…"

I regretted the words the instant they left my mouth- but I was too angry to take them back. I glared at her, cold and livid, and she let out a sob and walked away. And just like that, she was gone.

* * *

><p>The next morning, celebTV had a big announcement: Sakura Haruno had returned. According to their sources, she had simply been resting in the countryside, too frail to handle any publicity. In light of the fact, new theories had risen to the cause behind Sakura's hospitalization in the first place- specifically, they were starting to think she'd simply thrown herself in the river. When Sakura heard this, she screamed and threw the remote at her TV with alarming rage, breaking both.<p>

Her return home had caused her more humiliation than anything she'd ever experienced. No one was angry when she came back, no one asked where she'd gone- her dad simply let her in, with no questions asked and an infuriating smile that said, "I told you so." This made her shake with so much fury that she broke the bathroom window when she slammed her door.

She'd slept in her old room that night, the one she hadn't touched since she was sixteen. It was awful to be there- like she was right back under her father's thumb, back to taking her anger out on her hair and her wardrobe. Since she left, she'd thought of herself as an adult, in control of her own future and free from her father's authority- but clearly, he knew better.

Sakura had cried so many angry tears in this room. It was saturated, even after all this time, with old feelings she couldn't let go. Being there dampened her mood and brought back long-forgotten transgressions. But it was, she sighed, no more than she deserved.

She blinked when she recognized a photograph on her bedside table- it was of her and Hatori, in Moscow. It was taken years ago- she had barely reached her big brother's shoulders back then.

Sakura remembered very little of her visit to the city- mostly that some sort of big deal had gone down, and Hatori had been the one to make the exchange. She'd never seen her father looking more proud in her life.

Shukketsu had always loved Hatori, the way a father was supposed to. His first born, handsome, loyal, and a perfect heir for the family business. And Hatori was just as eager. Sakura never knew exactly what her eldest sibling thought of their father- if he really did hold only admiration for the man, or if there was ever fear underneath the way it was for Sakura and Izaya.

But their brother had never failed them. He understood their anger, found them when they ran away, hid with them at the MOMA. And then he was killed.

Ever since then, Shukketsu had been completely obsessed with finding the killer, and the rest of the family fell to the backburner. Amayo, their mom, fell further into alcoholism and stopped speaking to the rest of them altogether. As far as Sakura knew, she was now lounging under a booze blanket somewhere in London.

Shukketsu had long since renounced Izaya- nothing new there. But Sakura was different.

Her dad enjoyed the fact that he had her under his thumb. It justified his sense of authority- to have a child he could control, could prove wrong, could punish when she misbehaved. After Hatori died, that only got worse.

Her dad had said he was proud of her once. She remembered, because it had made her grin despite herself. It was the last stage of a job- she just had to sneak into a museum with a school group, grab a priceless necklace, and get out without being seen. Of course, she did it perfectly- you don't get to be a Haruno without acing the job- and her dad caught a big break. After she'd done it, he pulled her aside, put his hand on her shoulder the way dads do, and told her he was proud of her. "I love you, sunshine," he'd said. "I love you too, daddy."

The words echoed in her head.

Sakura was brought out of her reverie by the sound of muffled ringing. She blinked for a moment, stunned by the familiarity of the noise, before jumping to action. Her cellphone was under her pillow, almost fully charged. Clearly, someone had been keeping it on- Sakura wondered if her dad had been spying on it. She doubted it very little.

Still, she scrolled through hundreds of unread texts sent over the last two months, shuddering guiltily at the number of urgent messages from Izaya the night of the incident. There were tons from friends checking up (hey man, are you okay?!), and a whole slew from Izaya and Ino the night she ran away from the hospital.

Then she checked her voicemails, skipping all the ones that started with, "Oh my god!" until she reached one that came as recently as yesterday, which began, "Miss Haruno: your mother Amayo requests your presence in Boston on the twenty-first. She requests that you be at the Founders Café at 7pm that evening. Please respond at this number in a timely fashion. Thank you."

A loud beep signaled the end of the brief message, and Sakura was frozen. She hadn't seen Amayo since Hatori's funeral. And despite wishing more than anything that she didn't, Sakura missed her mom.

* * *

><p>I spent the night on the kitchen floor, slumped against the fridge, unable to comprehend that she was gone. She was- <em>gone<em>.

The temperature in the apartment had dropped twenty degrees, and the shadows had crept steadily back in. The place was dead once more.

After a few nauseating swigs of some Burnett's Temari had left on the counter, I was nearly on the floor, waving one of my handguns around and shooting at the telephone. I missed completely, and the wall around it was now dotted with bullet holes, but I was too drunk to care. Too upset.

* * *

><p>Writer's Note: Don't think I changed much in this chapter.. yeah, I definitely made the most changes in chaps 1-5, so at this point we're fine. Please review!<p> 


	11. Dark Days

_Mother, listen to my heart_  
><em>Just as one beat ends, another starts<em>  
><em>You can hear no matter where you are<em>  
><em>Sister, hide our love away<br>_ _From the evil we both know_

_It can see us through these dark days_  
><em>Though they seem to darken as I go<em>  
><em>Our love will see us through these dark, dark days<em>  
><em>'Til it lights the way back home<em>

- Punch Brothers

* * *

><p>I had a dream that night that Sakura came back. In it, the phone rang, and it was her voice, glimmering, like the reflection of sunshine on a lake.<p>

"Come down to the street," she'd said, and I rushed there.

She stood outside in a white summer dress, a soft smile on her face. I grinned hugely when I saw her and she chuckled, taking my hand.

"Where are we going?" I asked, "Nobody's awake."

She just gave me a sly smile and lead me along. The city bled back and forth into pre-dawn meadows, cold, quiet forests, windy country roads to empty towns. All the while Sakura held my hand, pulling me along and not saying a word. I wished I could see her face, but she never turned around. And then we were back at my apartment, and she kissed me goodnight and left.

After that dream, I didn't sleep for a week.

* * *

><p>Sakura dreaded the days counting down to the meeting in Boston. She was so thrown; she couldn't decide how to feel. Hopeful that her mom wanted to see her? Scared that she was doing this for a bad reason? Happy just to see her? She settled on dread.<p>

She took a train to Boston the afternoon of the twenty-first, taking a book to read but disregarding it completely. She knew the café she was supposed to go to- she and her mom had been there once, a long time ago. It had been a good day, just Amayo and her kids roaming Boston out of boredom. Her mom had lost her purse, and so for the first time, they experienced the city as four normal-ass broke tourists.

Her mom had seemed really happy. Losing her wallet had been more exciting to her than alarming, like losing her identification took away her identity, just for a little while. She held the eight-year-old Sakura's hand, her excited smile making the little girl hyper, and skipped with her around the harbor until their feet were sore while the boys skipped rocks and sword-fought with pieces of driftwood. Needing a place to sit down, they'd found the Founders Café, and stayed there for hours laughing. That day, Sakura had felt what it was like to be really loved. She couldn't forget it even if she wanted to.

The place was just as Sakura remembered it- teeny and very French, with a few tables out front and a high ceiling inside. She sat at the same table they had twelve years ago, waiting by the window. She knew full well that she was over an hour early.

It was only a few minutes later that the bell above the door rang, and Sakura looked up to see, surprise, Izaya- who seemed just as shocked when he spotted her. She stood up in a hurry and rushed to give him a nervous hug, which he returned with the same sentiment. Asking why he was there seemed silly, so instead she said simply, "Mom?"

He nodded, his face ashen and his mismatched eyes flickering anxiously. The siblings sat silently at the table, their eyes glued to their kneading hands and looking up instantly every time the door opened.

Eventually, around seven, a woman stepped in the door. She wore a pressed suit, librarian glasses, and had her hair pulled back in a severe knot. When the siblings saw that it wasn't Amayo, they turned away, back to waiting. But the woman scanned the café, and when she spotted the Harunos she made her way straight to them.

"Are you Sakura and Izaya?" she asked sharply, jolting them to attention. They both nodded and she took the empty seat beside them. She took some papers and what looked like jewelry from a black briefcase, placing the jewels on the table. Sakura recognized them immediately- there was a pendant of a dragon, a broach of a scarab beetle, and a ring with the symbol Ohm. They had been her mother's- she had bought them on her travels in Cairo and Beijing. Sakura had always thought them to be quite possibly the tackiest things her mother owned.

The woman straightened her papers, adjusted her glasses, and began to read, "I, Amayo Haruno, bequeath my Ohm ring to my first son, Hatori Haruno. I bequeath my Chinese dragon pendant to my second son, Izaya Haruno. To my daughter, Sakura Haruno, I bequeath my scarab beetle broach."

It took a minute for what she'd said to sink in. With wide eyes, Izaya asked urgently, "Why is she giving these to us?"

The woman straightened the papers again and replied, "It has come to Mrs. Haruno's attention that her children should receive their endowments as soon as possible."

"_Why?_" asked Sakura, her voice shaking. The woman took a moment to reply. She took off her glasses, probably in an effort to look less stern, and said gently, "I'm afraid your mother was diagnosed with liver cancer several months ago."

Sakura's breath caught in her throat, and Izaya looked just as stuck. The woman continued, "She doesn't have long."

A long silence followed, until Izaya found his voice. "Why didn't she come today? Why didn't she tell us?" he demanded weakly. His voice shook terribly.

The woman stood, taking her briefcase but leaving the jewels on the table. "She found herself otherwise engaged."

Finding her voice, Sakura stood as the woman turned away and pleaded, "No! Please, please let us see her! Call her, tell her we just want to talk her!"

"I'm sorry Miss, but I've been told to leave directly after giving you the items."

"But-"

"There's really nothing I can do," she cut Sakura off. "Please decide amongst yourselves who will receive the ring. Have a nice day."

And with that, she left.

Sakura fell back into her seat, a bit too shocked to feel the full gravity of the situation. Izaya covered his eyes, and she watched his shoulders tremble as he stifled a sob. She flinched, distressed by her brother's response. She stood, trying to keep her face expressionless, and took the jewelry and her brother's hand, pulling him up and out of the café. They walked to the train station together in silence until Izaya said, "Why did she give us _these_?"

He thumbed the dragon pendant and continued, "These might be the three ugliest pieces of crap she owns, and she knows it. What the fuck is she trying to say?"

Sakura shrugged dejectedly, "That we're nothing but pieces of junk to her?"

Izaya gave her an fearful look, and she didn't have the conviction to tell him she didn't believe it.

After a long hug at the train station, Izaya took a train back to Manhattan. Sakura was relieved to be alone for about half a second, and then an overwhelming thought hit her. She wanted to be with Sasuke. She wanted to hide away in his dark room, fall asleep surrounded by his scent, just see his face and know that it would calm her down. But then she felt even worse when she remembered that he didn't want to see her- ever again.

She rushed to the bathroom, breaking down in a stall and staying there until the station was deserted.

It was after midnight when she emerged, and the only light was coming from a line of pay phones against one wall. She didn't really think, she just did it. It was only when she heard the voice of the woman from before, saying, "You've reached the phone of Amayo Haruno. She is not currently available to take your call, but if you leave a message she will try to get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you for calling," that she realized she had nothing to say. But she spoke anyway at the message beep.

"Mom? It's Sakura. Erm… I want to see you. _Please_." Her voice was shaking uncontrollably. "I don't want…" she had to pause for a sob. She finished through tears, "Please Mom, just meet me in Central Park, at our corner. Friday night, at eight o' clock. Please be there yourself. _Please_," she whispered, and with a last tremble she hung up.

Sakura knew she was setting herself up for disappointment. Her mom probably wouldn't even get the message, let alone follow its directions. But even if it wasn't worth the distress it would cause, she had to do it.

That night, she decided to stay in Boston. She took a taxi to a cheap hotel and paid for one night. She collapsed on the bed, not caring that it smelled a bit odd or that the bathroom light didn't work. She just wanted to curl up alone and close her eyes, and briefly wondered if she could stay there forever.

* * *

><p>It was Hiro who told me what happened. Sakura's brother had told him, and when I went to see him in the hospital on Friday he was abnormally subdued. He wouldn't tell me at first, but when I told him Sakura had left my apartment he gave me a worried look and said simply, "They just found out their mom is dying."<p>

I frowned, alarmed, and he continued, "It might be any day. She's already given away her things… and it sounds like she doesn't want to see her kids again. Before, you know…"

That made a spark of fury flare up in me.

That afternoon, I went looking for Sakura. I didn't know where to look, or if she was even in the city, but I kept at it for hours. Rain clouds started rolling in, but even after it started pouring I kept looking, because I knew that if I stopped, I couldn't forgive myself. I didn't know what the hell I was supposed to do or how I could change anything, but I knew I couldn't do nothing.

I also knew exactly how stupid I was being, trudging through New York City in the rain looking for a girl who thought I hated her. I told myself I would stop once it got dark, that I'd never be able to find her like this, that I should stop. But I didn't. And eventually, when the storm was at its angriest, I found her.

* * *

><p>Her mom didn't show up. Sakura sat at the edge of the park for hours and hours, scanning the people walking by and upsetting herself every time she checked her watch. She didn't move an inch, waiting and waiting, and then just acknowledging the truth, that her mom had no intention of seeing her again. But she didn't cry. Not when eight o' clock came and went, nor when it started raining, nor when the clock struck twelve.<p>

Not until I showed up. She didn't notice me until I was standing right in front of her, hair dripping, hands in my damp pockets and dark eyes on hers. When she saw me, her eyes fluttered and she swallowed, and then, without asking any questions, she collapsed into my arms and started to cry, the sound of her sobs eclipsed by the thunder.

I carried her wordlessly home. She sat clinging to me on the empty subway, silently hiding her face in my drenched coat, wet hair pressed against my cheek.

When we got back to my apartment, I took her straight to the bathroom. Starting the water and sitting her on the edge of the bath, I took her wrist as gently as I could and opened the clasp on her watch, slipping it off her gaunt fingers. She watched as I did it, glaring at the watch and turning her gaze away. Gripping the shoulders of her coat, I pulled it off and began lifting her shirt from the bottom.

I peeled her wet clothes off layer by layer, waiting for her to protest. She never did, and when there she was naked I leaned in close and said simply, "Get in the bath."

She did. I sat on the tile floor beside her, scrubbing the residue of city rain from her body. She seemed to be in a distant world, sitting with her eyes closed and my hands against her, letting herself be held this way and that as I washed, not saying a word. The whole time, I had no clue what she was thinking.

We had sex again that night. I quickly discarded the idea of being gentle; I had so little self-control whenever she got near me. I was washing her shoulder and she leaned forward, impossibly close, and I shivered. She surveyed me through a veil of long dark lashes, almost like she wasn't looking at me at all, and I frowned. Pulling her close with my hand on her jaw, I kissed her hard, and she slid her arms around my neck, and I lurched forward against her.

I pulled off my clothes and stepped into the bath with her and we had sex in the water.

I honestly couldn't tell how she felt- she'd seemed so distant, but she begged me to pound into her and writhed along with me, pulling desperately at my skin.

I couldn't get enough of the feeling of her around me, the way she slid under me, clinging and contracting, her back arching and her voice breathless with stifled cries. I shuddered as I arched over her, inside her, and failed to hold back those harsh moans.

And then I couldn't stop, regardless of the circumstance. As she twitched aftershocks under me, I stood, turning on the shower. She surveyed me through heavy lids, breath catching as I pulled her up and leaned her against the steaming wall, lifting her leg up around my waist.

I entered her again, agonizingly slow, and shuddered with longing. But, despite, my lack of self-control, I was good at this. I kept a slow pace, gasping every time I pushed back in, reveling in the sound of her insistent moans, torturing us both until Sakura was pleading in my ear, "Fast- ah! Sas- faster. _Faster._"

And I thrust, hard and fast, and Sakura screamed, her voice stuck with cries, tightening around me and bringing me with her to white.

* * *

><p>I jerked awake to the sound of a ringtone early the next morning, not having realized I'd fallen asleep. I frowned, standing up and going to the bathroom. I ruffled through the pile of Sakura's clothes until I found her phone ringing in her coat pocket.<p>

Sakura was sitting up when I came back into the bedroom, wrapped in a just towel, tired eyes meeting mine. I offered her the buzzing phone, but she frowned, petrified, and I answered instead. "Hello?"

"Sasuke?" said a familiar voice in subdued surprise, and I blinked. "Hiro, is that you? Why are you calling Sakura?"

"Why are you answering for Sakura?" he asked back, and I found I didn't have an answer. At my silence, Hiro continued quietly, "Anyway, I was just calling to say… Izaya wanted me to tell her that- Sasuke, their mom- she died last night."

After a long moment, I sighed and closed my eyes. Sakura's eyes went wide when she saw my face, and she covered her mouth.

"Thanks Hiro," I murmured. "I have to go." and I hung up the phone.

One look at Sakura told her everything.

* * *

><p>Sakura was more hysterical than I'd ever seen her. She wasn't quite crying, and she wasn't quite breathing. She seemed unable to do either. I grabbed her by the wrists, holding her still and tilting her chin up, bringing her gaze to mine. She swallowed, her faint muscles so taut I could have snapped them in half. Holding her by the back of the neck, I pulled her forehead to mine and she closed her eyes, shaking. "Shhhh," I whispered, my tight grip on her anything but soothing.<p>

Yet she somehow did calm down. Her breathing quieted and her shoulders fell, and she slouched against me. After a while her forehead fell into the crook of my shoulder. I relaxed my grip on her neck and she whispered, "What do I do?"

Wishing I had a different answer, I murmured back, "I don't know."

A while later, Sakura's cell phone rang again, and this time she answered. It was Shukketsu, sounding cold and drained, with the same news. She cried a little when she heard his voice, but she remained composed enough to agree to go down to the hospital.

I drove her, but when we got there she asked me to stay in the car- I knew it was because she didn't want me and her dad to meet. But I had a feeling that she was also better at containing her feelings when I wasn't around.

I don't know what happened in the hospital, but she wasn't in there for very long. When she came back out to the car, she sat for a moment in silence, her gaze straight ahead- the way it had been the night I took her to the cemetery. I watched as she sighed heavily, closing her eyes and leaning back against the seat. "Let's go, Sasuke," she whispered, and I turned back to the steering wheel, hating her dead mom absolutely.

* * *

><p>Writer's Note: Jeez, I'm mean to Sakura. Poor girl. And her fortune won't improve much in the future either. But I am sick of her crying. You too, no? Anyways, I thank you for reading! Please review :) New chapters coming eventually, heh<p> 


	12. Love Me Dead

**Guess who's back :) so friends, after a year of being busy with other shit, I've rediscovered this story and built up this chapter (which sat unfinished for months on my laptop)- and it won't be the last! **

**So I did rewrite some stuff in earlier chapters- not too many facts were changed, it was largely just prettying up the writing- mostly in chapters 1-5, I think. Sorry if there are inconsistencies!**

**Warnings: lemon (like, immediately), gore & violence- because here's where the action begins :D Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>You're awful, I love you<em>

_She moves through moonbeams slowly  
>She knows just how to hold me<br>And when her edges soften  
>Her body is my coffin<br>_

_I know she drains me slowly  
>She wears me down to bones in bed<br>Must be the sign on my head, it says,  
>"Oh, love me dead!"<em>

- Ludo

* * *

><p><em>It's too light- I can't see much. Vaguely, green trees. And pink. <em>

_ It smells like cold grass, mowed, or maybe rained on. I think I'm outside. _

_ My skin tingles, fingers shake, back shivers, and a spot somewhere south of my throat where I feel... a definite nothing. Why? _

_ The strongest sense is the taste; a familiar one, fluid, copper, and hot- always unexpectedly hot. That's blood. _

_ And for some reason, I can't hear a thing._

_ I'm missing something important- a face I recognize, a face I know, so close. _

_ I'm speechless. I know there's screaming but I can't remember why._

_ Whose heartbeat is that? It doesn't feel like mine._

_ Where am I? How long have I been here? _

_ Is this bad?_

_ Something, some obvious truth, eludes me- but shit, my head hurts- I need to close my eyes._

_ When I do, a voice finally slips through: "No no no, Sasuke, open your eyes! Stay with me! Sasuke! SASUKE!" but like a song heard through a brick wall, the words are cloudy, and soon they're blocked out completely. _

_ Suddenly, the sensation of falling. _

* * *

><p>It was our secret; our devilish, delicious secret, that would stay hidden in the dark corners of my bedroom. My head between her legs and hers between mine, an incredibly dangerous position.<p>

My heart beat raced a mile a minute, and my hands shook- I wondered if Sakura could tell. I wondered if she was the same. And Jesus Christ, what a test on my self-restraint. The only thing stopping me from bucking my hips and choking her was keeping myself distracted on the task at hand- and for fuck's sake, that hardly helped. The harder I licked and sucked, the more she whimpered, and the deeper she took my cock down her throat. And shit, that's fantastic for me- but dammit, a guy's gotta be given a fighting chance.

I changed my approach, jabbing relentlessly with my tongue, and she gasped, pulling her lips slowly off me as I kept up the pace. Her stomach clenched and unclenched and I pushed her down hard at the pelvis, holding her in place. Her breath was quick and rasping, and _so_ sexy when she said my name. Sliding her fingers greedily into my hair, she breathed, "_Ah- Sasuke… ah- ah! AH! Nh, Sasuke! Sasuke! Ah, Sasuke! I'm gonna cum!"_

Holy fuck. What would you do? I flicked harder, and in a swift movement she pressed down full-force on my neck and arched her back. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, letting her hold me down as she came.

She cried out and shuddered against me, taking a moment to catch her breath and recover before she let go of my neck and breathed, "Sorry, Sasuke…"

Please, like I didn't love it. Sitting up, she crept up so her lips were by my ear and bit it, whispering, "I'll be on top."

I shivered, a half smile on my lips, and scrambled up so I was sitting, my back against the headboard. Graceful and as impossibly lovely as always, she put her hands on my shoulders, drawing a leg over so she was straddling me.

Slowly, always so sure of what she was doing, she leaned forward and kissed my neck, sliding her tongue easily from my earlobe to that spot under my chin that she knows drives me crazy.

I laid my forehead against her chest, wrapping my arms around her thin waist and kissing lightly. But when she dragged her fingers down my torso and hit that spot on my abs, when I felt that spike drop in my stomach, I grabbed her at her ribs and jerked her closer, and her breath hitched. She got the message.

Leaning back slightly, she took my cock and lifted her hips, pushing in slowly and forcing a ragged gasp from the back of my throat. "_Fuck- Sakura, I'm already-_"

"_I know_," she whispered, pulling slowly up again before sinking back down hard. I think she enjoyed toying with me like that, but it didn't take her long to get caught up in the motion, slapping harshly with gasps and groans, intent on carving me into her. It wasn't long before my grunts turned to loud, desperate moans, hers into rapid whimpers.

"_Sa- I'm-_"

"_Uh-huh!_"

And then I heaved her hips down hard, coming in a thunderous moan as she compressed around me, bringing us both to white.

* * *

><p>After the night I found Sakura in Central Park, I locked myself up in my room with her for four days.<p>

We had a lot of sex. Like, really hot, twisted, kinky sex. Damn. You should've been there.

But it didn't sit entirely right with me, sensing that she was using me as some sort of escape from her grief. I was rough, and she pulled at me so desperately. But we also slept under those sheets, each seeming to require constant physical contact from the other- like an organic humming in our bones that would cut off if the other pulled away.

Not that I slept any better than before, but it was a nice change of pace no longer feeling like my own room was off limits whenever she was in it.

Before dawn on the day of Amayo's funeral, I woke up lying chest-to-chest on top of Sakura, my nose dug into the shining pink hair just behind her left ear, and my shoulders and back enveloping her small frame. My first thought was disbelief that she could sleep with almost all my weight on her. Then I rolled my eyes when I remembered that Sakura's ability to sleep was more of a genetic talent than a cultured skill- unlike me, ever the failure in that respect.

When I blinked a few times and remembered the day's coming event, I sighed heavily, the movement of my chest on Sakura's stirring her.

She wouldn't get out of bed.

I got up with the sun that morning, finally breaking the spell over the bedroom when I put clothes on for the first time in four days and closed the door with a definitive clunk behind me. In the kitchen I didn't know what to do with myself, so I just sat around making pot after pot of coffee and sitting with my head glued to the kitchen table, bored but totally unable to sleep. And as the morning continued and Sakura didn't emerge to eat, I started working myself into a bad mood. Weren't we over this? Hadn't there been an unspoken agreement between us that at the end of our hiding period, we would both face the real world like real adults?

By noon, even though to Sakura that was still early, I got restless enough that I marched over and threw the door open, smacking it against the wall with a resounding thud.

Sakura didn't so much as flinch. I stood there in the doorway with my arms crossed, waiting for her to do or say something, but she just laid there under the comforter, face dug into the pillow and veiled by her pink hair. I could tell she was ignoring me.

I walked over and brushed the hair from her face, trying to be gentler than I wanted, and she looked up at me with an anger in her eyes that I wasn't expecting. I just sighed and took my hand away, flopping onto the bed next to her. After a silent minute I said quietly, though not without hostility, "Get out of bed."

She gripped the covers with skinny knuckles, pulling them further over her. I knew she was mad at me for leaving our hiding place, but she didn't want to say it because of the satisfaction it would absolutely have given me. But before she could fight me, I yanked the comforter off her and pulled her to her feet, meeting with a loud protest. I pointed to the door, commanding, "Now go take a shower."

She gave me a dry glare, but did as she was told.

* * *

><p>Her family sent a limousine with blackened windows to take us to the cemetery. We forgot to be pissed at each other pretty much the second it arrived, and I pulled her into the backseat after me when she looked like she might make a run for it. She didn't let go of my hand- I don't think she even noticed she still had it- the whole way there, as she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.<p>

After a while she asked me quietly, "Sasuke… how did your mom die?"

I frowned, realizing in an instant where this was coming from. Carefully, I answered quietly, "She was… shot. In the head."

It felt weird to say it, to say _anything_ about it, after so many years of silence. "It was in our family's old apartment. Someone broke in when she was there alone, and they killed her. They think it was a robbery gone wrong."

"But your dad disagrees?" she asked, and I nodded my head. "He's convinced it was a hired hit, made to look unplanned- he thinks they only took stuff from the house to make it look like a robbery."

"Why would someone want your mom dead, though?"

I shrugged. "My dad's the chief of police. He has a lot of enemies."

It was quiet in the car for a minute before Sakura asked, "Well, what do _you_ think happened?"

I looked at her, and our eyes met for a brief moment before I glanced away, unsettled by the frailty in her gaze. Keeping my eyes instead on the trees whooshing by, I shrugged a defeated, "I don't know."

She sighed audibly, clearly unconvinced, and I continued.

"The weird thing was, they found plaster and wood lodged under her fingernails- like she'd been digging into the floor, or the walls. I think she was looking for something, or she hid something. Which begs the question, _what?_"

Sakura asked with narrow eyes, "Then, does that mean she knew someone was after her? Like they were after whatever it was she had?"

I frowned and sighed, "That's where we got stuck. Without knowing what the thing was or where it ended up, there's no way to move forward."

We fell into silence again, both caught up in our suspicions, until Sakura started gently, "Sasuke-"

But her sentence was cut off when the driver announced, "We're here, Ma'am."

Sakura's head whipped forward and her whole body tensed, and the color instantly drained from her face. Without thinking, without giving her time to react, I grabbed her hand and pulled her close, my fierce eyes boring into her glassy ones.

Her breath caught as I stared through her, and my whisper just barely clipped her perception: "Don't push yourself, okay? You have to tell me if it's too much."

She stared transfixed for a moment, a bit in shock, before she sighed quietly and gave me a small look of skepticism. "You know that's not my style."

My frown deepened, and it wasn't until that moment that I realized how worried I was. I was asking her to let me take care of her- _telling_ her to.

"Okay," she murmured with a rather sharp tongue, "I will tell you when I need you. So you can stop holding your breath waiting for me to break down."

"Tch."

Funny how one involuntary sound, not even a word, said _everything _on my mind. The glimmer in Sakura's eyes turned foul. Her face still close to mine, held there by my iron grip on her wrist, she said quietly, "Stop looking down on me, Sasuke. I'm allowed to feel sad at my mother's goddamn funeral."

I tisked again and looked away. "That's not what I'm-"

"Then what _are_ you saying?" she asked bluntly, forcing me to meet her eyes. I simply stared for a moment, conflicted, before I said quietly, my voice losing its heat, "I'm saying I don't like seeing you hurt."

It took a long moment for Sakura to break her grip on me- she looked at me with her face turned away slightly, as if trying to decide whether she would swallow my words. I just stared back hard, unspeaking and unyielding. And I think I passed her test, because she let go with a big sigh and said, opening the car door and stepping out, "Sasuke, I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of feeling so weak. I'm sick of needing you to save me. So… stop."

I glared at her, but said nothing.

* * *

><p>It was a church service. Sakura and I came in at the back of the worship hall, and on the long trek to the front row, <em>every<em> _single_ black-clad attendee turned around mid-sentence to stare like we were infected with something. Then again, that's probably exactly what they thought when they saw Sakura, the great failure: that she was a bug they might find giddy excitement in squashing, should she ever find her way under their shoe.

She walked fast, pulling me along with her pace and bee-lining for the second row, where I saw two faces I recognized, though only one I had time to process: windswept honey hair and distinctly mismatched eyes, and a noncommittal smile. The relief it brought Sakura to see her brother there surprised even her- with wide eyes she stepped ahead of me, catching the sudden alarm in Izaya's eyes just a moment too late, and unable to dodge in time, she smacked headfirst into the man of the hour.

It wasn't until that day, my first time in the presence of Sakura's father, that I realized how much I'd been underestimating his influence. Where in my mind there had once been a shrouded figure surrounded by enormous piles of money and like, barrels of oil, the real thing was somehow much darker: a tall, broad-shouldered man with deeply leathered and pocked olive skin, suave black hair peppered through with gray and pulled into a ponytail, and a thick discolored scar like a chunky necklace running across the base of his neck, easily visible above the collar of his tailored Armani suit. I mean, I've seen my fair share of gross shit, but that ash-packed keloid scar made me cringe a bit.

The ruthless foreign-oil tycoon Shukketsu Haruno certainly seemed to live up to his title. The piles of money in my head were replaced with the fourteen armed guards in tuxedoes stationed tactically along the central aisle- this dude wasn't all about money, like I'd thought. He was all about power.

Oh god. Had I been dreading this moment? I don't think it ever crossed my mind before it came up how on earth I would introduce myself to Sakura's father. And no matter how smooth a talker I might be, there are times when a quick tongue just doesn't cut it.

Turned out it didn't matter, because the mobster seemed totally uninterested in me. When Sakura bumped into him, he just crossed his arms and waited.

"Wha- Dad!" she exclaimed, hopping back. "What are you- um- hi."

His cold expression didn't relax for an instant. "Where have you been, Sakura?" His voice wasn't at all loud or angry- disinterested, if anything.

But Sakura faltered. "I- I needed some time to… to process. Dad, I'm-"

"Were you with _him_?" he motioned toward me with his chin- a slight, perfectly controlled signal. Sakura watched him for a long moment, deliberating, before she nodded, her eyes falling guiltily to the grass. Shit, now his attention was on me.

"And you are?"

It was amazing to me that someone at his own wife's funeral could seem so.. bored. I scowled without meaning to and answered, "Sasuke Uchiha… sir."

Now _I_ was the bug under his shoe. Shukketsu's dark eyes glimmered with revulsion, but he dutifully held out his leathered hand and said, "Shukketsu Haruno."

I shook it like a taser, gingerly and only for a split second. "I take it you're my daughter's latest distraction."

"Dad!" Sakura cut in, "Please, don't-"

"Sakura, go say hello to your cousins," he barked, without ever breaking eye contact with me. Sakura looked like she might protest, but after a moment she trudged off, defeated. Another moment of ringing silence passed before Shukketsu chuckled coldly and murmured to me, "How much, then? Ten thousand?"

I scowled and said nothing. Somewhere in my mind, I realized I should have expected this.

"Don't give me that, boy. It's very obvious to me why you've taken a liking to my daughter. How much to make you disappear?" Shukketsu spoke slowly and intentionally, and not without hostility.

"I don't want your money." The bite in my voice couldn't convey my disgust, which was probably for the best.

"Hm. I've heard that one before. But I can assure you, in the end, _they all take it_."

A cold fury dropped in my stomach. It's possible that the next thing I said went too far. "Trust me, your blood money is the last thing that could ever make me leave her."

It didn't really ruffle the mobster's feathers. I knew that. But he had to pretend it did. He took a sudden step forward, close enough to spit in my ear, "_Fine then. Would you prefer getting tossed out with the trash?_"

I knew I'd gone too far when I felt the unmistakable cold metal tip of a handgun against my chest. But I was saved when one of the armed grunts in shades came jogging up to us and said, "Sir, the press has just arrived. There's practically a mob of journalists and photographers at the doors, requesting entry."

Shukketsu's eye twitched visibly before simultaneously holstering his gun and turning to the guard. "How did they find out about the funeral?"

"Sir, it could be that someone inside leaked the information, this isn't the first…"

The two kept talking, and I took the chance to slip away.

* * *

><p>I hadn't planned to sit next anywhere near the family, but I'm sure Sakura knew that and refused to let me sneak off, because she'd held fast to my hand and pulled me to the second row, next to Izaya and hardly five meters from Shukketsu. And of course, Hiro was there. Shit, it hadn't occurred to me that he might be there. But he'd clearly remembered I would, because he gave me a quick, anxious hug and a little nod without saying anything. I realized he was probably worried about all the mafia folk present, and I had to admit- two sons of a renowned NYPD sheriff, at the funeral of a mob wife? It was pretty reckless. But no one recognized us- or if they did, they didn't say anything.<p>

When we sat down, Sakura leaned over to her brother and whispered in his ear, just loud enough that I could hear, "Izaya… Are you the leak?"

He looked at her with narrow eyes, murmuring, "What leak is that?"

She shook her head. "You _asshole_," she whispered harshly, "This is Mom's _funeral_. Why did you do tip off every journalist on Long Island?"

"I think you should be thanking me right now, little sister. I'm taking the lion's share of attention off of our uninvited guests," he whispered with a hint of irritation, gesturing to me and Hiro with his chin. I pretended to read the program, unaware.

That was the last he'd say on the subject.

During the service, several formal speeches were made- from Amayo's sisters, Shukketsu, the priest. But for much of it, the people sounded to me like they hadn't actually known her very well- or if they had, they didn't like her very much. Maybe that was a terrible thing to think about a person at their funeral, but hell- I'd never met her. And from what I knew about her, the way she'd treated Sakura at the end- I didn't feel terribly guilty.

Dutifully, Sakura and Izaya sat tall and poised for the whole service, no sighing, no shaking, no crying, while Hiro and I sat watching them helplessly.

* * *

><p>There was meant to be a wake at the Haruno's penthouse in Manhattan. It was never clear to me whether we were going to that or not- needless to say, we never got there. Something fatally absurd happened before we could.<p>

It was just past six and still light outside when the service ended. The attendees filed out slowly, all headed to the parking lot, where several limousines waited to ferry them into the city. Hiro and Izaya went in the other direction, mentioning something about a rehearsal Hiro had to get to, so it was just me and Sakura. On the walk along the boulevard to the limos, she grabbed my arm and held it tight, leaning her head against my shoulder.

"You look really sexy in that tux, by the way," she murmured warmly, and I looked down at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She looked at me with a heavy smile, and I pulled her forward with an easy, "Come on, monkey."

We fell into a soft silence again until we reached the throng of funeral goers on the sidewalk and she muttered, "Jesus, how did we get so unlucky?"

I stopped walking and she let go, turning to face me. Her eyes, those beautiful cerulean eyes, shimmered on me. "I'm serious, Sasuke. When is all this bad shit gonna give it a rest?"

What an astonishing lead-up to what happened next.

The first sign that something was wrong was the beeping I hardly noticed. It was slow for maybe four seconds, and then sped up for three. Before I could even recognize what I knew it was, my body reacted: My eyes went wide, and I turned and threw myself at Sakura, pitching us both to the ground just as the beeping intensified and, after a frozen, silent instant, a limousine seven feet from us exploded.

The doors, trunk, and hood were all blasted clean off, the glass in the windows shattered and flew in every direction, much of it lodged in our skin, and a massive fireball rose above the blazing car. Screams and cries rose from the crowd, and chaos erupted as people shouted and ran, stunned and scrambling like ants under a boot. But my mind shut it all out- there was only me, Sakura, and escape.

I dragged her up haphazardly, and she followed without protest. Gripping her in panic, the only words I could muster were, "Are you okay?"

She nodded breathlessly, the wind knocked out of her and bleeding from multiple glass cuts on her face and arms. I grabbed her hand and started to run- too late. The place filled with the sound of screeching tires, and hardly a moment later the air went heavy and harsh with an unrelenting spray of bullets. Grabbing Sakura by the neck, I yanked her head down and we dove behind the skeleton of the flaming limo.

The sound of machine guns overwhelmed the sounds of terror, and it was all I could do to shield Sakura's body with my own. From what I could see between the cars, people were dropping left and right in sprays of red- one man was lying dead on the ground, a car door lodged deep in his neck. I shut out my revulsion, scanning instead for a way out- from what it seemed, there were three cars penning the crowd in, each with a gunman leaning from the sunroof.

Several of Shukketsu's armed guards came running towards the scene, but there was no place to duck and cover. Watching them with dread I shouted, "No, they can't get close enough!"

Out in the open, they were shot down one by one. "Shit!" I shouted, as the last was knocked off his feet, the gun flying out of his hands- and landing just a few feet from us, in the gap between the burning car and the next, wide out in the open.

Sakura saw me eyeing it and grabbed me by the sleeve, yanking me down. "No! Sasuke, there's no way!"

"I can hit all of them from here! If I can just get that gun-"

"I'm _begging _you Sasuke, don't do it! They'll shoot you long before you get to the gun and back, it won't work!"

"Trust me!" I shouted, cupping her face in my hands. "I'll be right back! And hey-" I pulled her forward and caught her in a fast kiss, hesitating only for a moment, "I- …I love you."

She stared at me shell-shocked for a split second, before I took off and she screamed my name, possibly furious.

The next instant may as well have lasted a lifetime, I saw the whole thing so clearly. As I darted out from behind the car, a spray of bullets hurtled past me, and one must have grazed my left arm but I didn't even notice. When I got my hand on the gun, the whole scene was laid out before me: there were the three cars right there, and the shooters and their heavy artillery, and Sakura ducked behind the flaming car. Really, I only needed one shot.

So I took it. I grabbed the gun, stood up to my full height, aimed, and pulled the trigger. And in that same instant, I got a good look at the second shooter- and froze.

That face had been so unexpected, it threw me completely. And before I even began to ponder it, something knocked me clear off my feet. I heard Sakura cry out.

But my shot made it: I hit the gas line of the middle car. A second explosion ripped through the scene, sending the car twirling in the air and knocking the other two backwards off their axles. My ear drums felt like they'd burst, and I couldn't tell if I heard loud ringing or nothing.

As the burning car came hurtling toward me, I felt someone drag me out of the way behind another, relatively undamaged, limousine. She heaved me up so I was leaning against her chest. Looking up, I saw a veil of pink hair over me, and for some reason I was reminded of a magical fairy princess, shielding me from the destruction around us.

I realized she was crying, but I couldn't figure out what she was saying. She just held me and leaned over me, pressing her hands hard onto the center of my chest. She began to blur in and out of sight, and my head was really starting to hurt, and I couldn't remember what I was doing there in the first place.

Suddenly, the sensation of falling.

* * *

><p>Writer's Note: Wow, sex scenes just write themselves, don't they! But really, the lemon is the thing I'm most anxious to get feedback on- was it too much? Or not enough? Too short? Too vague? Awkward? Tell me, my cherished advisors!<p>

Or you can also tell me how the rest of the chapter was :D Thank you for reading!

And for the love of god, somebody please tell me if you even read the lyrics at the start of each chapter.


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